


Howl

by Gingersnap87



Series: Inhuman [2]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: AJ has a way with people, AU, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dean is sassy as hell, Humor, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Slash, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attack, Sequel, Seth is cute and concerned, Some Dark Humor, Supernatural Elements, These two shits are adorable, Werewolves, ambrollins - Freeform, and a bit salty, and flirty, big brother roman, dark themes, vulgar humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2018-10-15 20:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gingersnap87/pseuds/Gingersnap87
Summary: Life for Dean is finally starting to settle back to normal. In fact it's better than normal. He's WWE World Champ, top SmackDown draft pick, and he's solid in a relationship with Seth. Things are great! Unfortunately he's about to learn things aren't as good as he'd like to believe, and it has nothing to do with him and Seth being separated by the draft. Sequel to Bad Moon Rising.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Again this is the sequel to my fic Bad Moon Rising, so if you have not ready it first and find yourself here, you should probably read it first or things will be pretty confusing ^^' I wanted to say thanks to everyone that read, favorited, and reviewed BMR. Howl wouldn't have happened as quickly if not for all of you. Thank you~  
> Special thanks to my bestie and fellow writer Nooneym for helping me with BMR as well as the sequel. You are amazing and are always helpful~
> 
> Now on to what I wanted to say about this fic before going further. This fic will sort of be a different animal to BMR in that the chapters will likely be shorter and, though I have a pretty good start on chapters, I'm likely to not keep a schedule with updates like I had before. This fic will be way longer and grittier. AND this fic, though still featuring a lot of Ambrollins, could probably be considered more Dean-centric. I hope that won't disappoint you guys.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all can enjoy this sequel~

"There's a humming in the restless summer air  
And we're slipping off the course that we prepared  
But in all chaos, there is calculation"  
-Lorde "Glory and Gore"

 

"What's next Ambrose, ridiculously bright assless chaps?" said Seth from where he stood just off camera with Roman.

Dean removed his ridiculously large foam cowboy hat, shooting his brothers a dimpled grin. Seth awaited his reply expectantly while Roman shot their youngest brother a mildly uncomfortable look. Stepping closer, to Seth in particular, Dean let his tongue loll almost obscenely from his mouth.

"I dunno, Sethie," he drawled, "I think assless chaps are more up your alley."

Seth blushed furiously but maintained eye contact, whereas Roman shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning loudly.

"Dude, TM fuckin' I."

"Alright, alright, big guy. We'll keep it on the down low." Dean then leaned in and pecked Seth on the lips, though he ached to kiss him breathless.

Four weeks and six days had passed since the draft and Dean's fear of being physically separated from Seth was now realized. And there was absolutely no idea among the superstars how long this brand split would last. It could last years. Knowing that, Dean had latched himself to his brothers and his friends. But most of all he clung to Seth; spending what little time they got alone wrapped up in each other's arms.

Thankfully for those four weeks and six days the two brands continued to travel in tandem, giving everyone some time to settle and adjust to the transition more smoothly. Raw and SmackDown appeared to be separated but were still connected behind the scenes, and once the cameras turned off Dean was often featured in dark matches with both his brothers.

Dean wanted to think that he was ready by now to travel without Seth and had said so often. Seth had shown him multiple ways they could keep in contact during their free time, though it had taken him awhile to get the hang of it. He was pretty sure he knew how to FaceTime and everything now. They'd also agreed that, depending on where they were when they both had days off, they would try to either spend time together at his place or at Seth's home in Iowa.

But as he listened to Seth talking about whom he was planning to travel on the road with once the draft went into full effect, Dean's mind began to drift and his lover's voice started to fade into the background of his awareness.

Tonight was the last show he would have with Roman and Seth. They were all going to stay at the same hotel and have a small going away party, just the three of them. But in the morning they'd be getting on different planes. Could he handle it? Was he ready?

"Dean!" Seth called sharply and Dean came back down to Earth.

"Yeah?" he answered, hoping his voice made him sound like he had been present in their conversation the whole time.

Seth gave him a look saying that he knew good and well that his mind had been elsewhere.

"You okay, man?" Roman vocalized what Seth seemed to be thinking.

"Yeah," he rolled his shoulders, "I'm fine."

Hell no he wasn't, but he was trying.

' _Buck up, buckaroo,'_ he told himself, _'least you're not wolfing out anymore._ '

Dean took a subtle calming breath, plastering his chill smile on his face. This time he was able to even convince himself when he repeated, "I'm fine."

After being cured the abnormal hair growth and eye color that marked his transformations never returned. However his super senses and animal instincts had lingered for a few weeks. Luckily during that time he usually worked with Seth and Roman. the wolf had long became accustomed to being around them without feeling the need to harm them. But what was worse was the desire that remained to prove his dominance when it felt like others were closing in on his possessions or space.

At first it had alarmed him that he was still having such emotional responses to people. While this intense form of agitation endured, he hadn't acted more on his feelings of aggression than him occasionally become overly snappy. But the longer these intentions persisted the more he became afraid of acting on them.

He had told Seth what was going on right away. He remembered how steady brown eyes had searched his face thoroughly before his lover said, "You had a werewolf in your head for three months, Dean."

Seth went on to say that he was sure that anyone who went through that would still be a little batty afterwards, that it was probably a bit like a side effect.

"He's gone, Dean."

Seth had been right. Everything seemed to dampen with time until all that was left was a mildly heightened sense of smell and hearing, among other things. Dean assumed that the wolf had altered parts of him irreversibly. But as long as he wasn't consumed by beastly thoughts, he didn't mind being saddled with super senses and a super libido. As long as Seth didn't complain, he wouldn't.

"You sure you're okay?" Seth asked anyway, as though picking up on his recent train of thoughts.

This time the smile that Dean gave him was more natural, radiating a warmth and confidence that even he could feel.

"One-hundred percent." He then got the signal that he was to head on over to Gorilla. Hoisting the WWE World Championship title belt more securely over his shoulder, he said in his best John Cena impression, "Looks like _The Champ_ is needed. Catch ya later."

He caught Roman shaking his head his head, a smile on his face as he swaggered past.

"Don't get too comfortable, Dean-o," Seth called to his back, "Pretty soon you won't be the only one calling himself Champ. I'm gonna be leading team RAW and giving you and SmackDown Live a lesson in who the real champ and brand is."

"I think you two are forgetting who's the big brother here," Roman interjected, "I intend to taking you both down."

Dean gave them a casual wave over his shoulder. "Bring it on, buttercups."

He didn't have to do much after his music hit. He simply had to make his way down the ramp to provide some color-commentary, and mess with AJ Styles and Dolph Ziggler a little while he pretended to scout who his opponent at Backlash would be. All three of them knew it was going to be Styles.

Though he didn't mind commentating, he could do it in his sleep. He kind of hoped he'd be in action so he could better clear his mind. Oh well, at least he was certain that there was a dark match waiting for him after the show.

Everything was going without a hitch and Dean found himself enjoying the back-and-forth match up between the two talented wrestlers, especially one as gifted as Styles. It reminded him of why he fell in love with watching wrestling and thus him pursuing it as a career.

After the match Styles was of course declared the winner. The ring veteran jumped down from the ring apron and confronted him, eying his title and making threats about taking it from him to get the crowd going.

Dean felt a mild stirring in his chest, a stirring that called for him to protect his coveted possession. He mentally shook himself and stamped it down in order to focus on his job, vocally rebuffing Styles' threats as he should.

His calmness evaporated the instant Styles invaded his space and forcibly removed his headset, an intense churning of feral emotions beginning to override sensible human reason.

Suddenly it wasn't about championships or scripted plotlines. To Dean, Styles was challenging his very position on nature's food chain, looking to take his spot as well as everything he owned.

Irrational though it was, a vision of Seth being claimed from him as well swam into his head.

A low growl resonated through Dean's ribcage.

With his eyes locked with that of his challenger's, Dean stood, asserting his full height over the much shorter man. Styles, having to crane his neck to maintain eye contact, immediately – perhaps unconsciously – took a step back.

That wouldn't cut it.

Dean stalked forward, pupils dilating as Styles continued to slowly retreat, placing an almost disarming smile on his face. The subtle display of submission did nothing to set Dean at ease. Instead it awakened something predatory that had lain dormant in him for weeks now. The more he backed away, the more Dean wanted to give chase, to hunt.

It was only when the referee inserted himself between them and Styles' hands rose in placation that Dean realized what sort of behavior he was treading towards. Once again he mentally checked himself. Slowly the irrational, wild impulses banging around his head subsided completely.

' _The wolf's gone. I'm still in control.'_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Someone take these dreams away  
> That point me to another day  
> A duel of personalities  
> That stretch all true realities
> 
> That keep calling me  
> They keep calling me  
> Keep on calling me  
> They keep calling me"  
> -Nine Inch Nails "Dead Souls"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank so much for the comments and all the kudos on the last chapter. Kudos are nice, but comments are much nicer :') Anyways, hope you enjoy the update~

Throughout the dark six-man tag match consisting of him, Roman and Cena against Seth, Erick Rowan, and Bray Wyatt the unforeseen flare up of aggression never returned. The match flowed smoothly and he was able to work with all men involved without a hitch. Nobody even noticed that he and Seth let their hands linger on each other longer than usual. Yes, Dean had counted.

Dean was unsure what had brought out his reaction earlier. Ziggler had been pursuing him for the title beforehand. But Styles was a competitor on a whole new level than anyone he had faced – besides Seth and Roman – since he was bitten.

Such a challenger probably brought out another wolf-like side effect out of him. He decided not to worry too much about it since nothing happened and it was soon forgotten.

Dean handed Roman and Seth another round of beers, then after sitting down next to Seth, cracked open his own.

They were all sitting around inside his and Seth's shared hotel room, relaxing after another night of hard work finished.

"Yeah I'll be home tomorrow afternoon, sweety. Yeah really, and I'll be home Friday too," Roman spoke happily into his cell phone, "Of course I will, I promise. Now you better get ready for bed, it's already late as it is. Yeah I'll tell him. G'night Jojo, I love you."

Roman finished saying his goodbyes to his wife as well before ending the call. He looked to Dean and said, "Jojo says hi."

"What about me?" Seth asked, mildly affronted.

Roman's brow quirked and he laughed. "Are you kidding? You're still on her shit list."

Seth pouted and Dean couldn't help but join Roman in the teasing laughter.

"We'll see about that after I take her to DisneyWorld to meet all her favorite Disney princesses," the brunet grumbled.

"Weren't you her favorite Disney princess before you joined the dark side?" Dean asked coyly. When Seth shot him a withering glare he chuckled, "Well you were my favorite anyway." He then faced Roman, "So how is the little rugrat?"

"She's doing great. One of the top students in her karate class and she also decided to join soccer team this summer. And can you believe she's going to be starting third grade in a few weeks?"

"Damn…when we all first met, Jojo was just a little tike," Seth murmured in nostalgic awe.

Dean nodded in agreement. "Kids grow up fast, don't they?"

"I'll pretend you didn't say that. I want her to stay my baby girl forever and I really don't want to have to worry about boys for another twenty years…"

Dean took another pull from his beer then said, "I dunno Ro, my mom said I started chasing my baby sitters' skirts before I was outta diapers."

Roman gave him a dirty look. "The fact that you said that means she's getting the talk when I get home…"

"…I had a girlfriend when I was six," Seth added thoughtfully.

"Not helping…" growled their oldest brother.

"Relax Ro," Dean said quickly, "we're just busting your balls, for the most part. Now drink your beer before it gets warm."

Roman complied silently albeit somewhat grumpily.

"So you never answered my question earlier."

Dean blinked, turning his attention back to his lover. "What question was that?"

"So you were zoned out back there."

"I'm not now," he said, sensing Seth's exasperation begin to stir, "what did you ask?"

"I asked if you'd figured out who you would be travelling with to shows now?"

Shit. He honestly hadn't thought that one over. Seth and Roman had each other, though they were still scripted enemies. They had other people they were friends with and could rely on too. On the other hand, Dean felt a bit like an island on the SmackDown Live roster. He never really bothered to get to know many superstars now a part of team blue.

When he didn't answer after a few beats Seth began again, "I'm riding with Cesaro and Rome's riding with Titus. Who do you have?"

"Um…"

"You haven't planned that at all, have you?"

"I had my mind on other things."

"Like what?"

"Lots of things."

Namely spending as much time with Seth as their demanding schedules permitted.

Seth sighed and rolled his eyes a little. "When are you going to start making plans instead of floating on the wind all the time, Dean?"

"Don't worry about your boy," Roman spoke up for the first time during the exchange, "he'll ride with my cousins. I'll send them a heads up text right now and I'm sure they won't say no."

"See Princess? Nothin' to get your skinny jeans in a twist over. But I do appreciate your loving concern."

"You're a pain in my ass sometimes."

"You wouldn't love me if I wasn't," Dean smirked, walking his fingers sensually along Seth's shoulder to the sensitive nape of his neck.

Seth tried to glare at him again, but the flush of his cheeks and the shiver of his body gave away his true feelings.

"Movie time," Seth evaded teasingly and jumped up to start Die Hard. Brown eyes silently told him, _"That's what you get for making me blush more than three times in a day in front of Rome."_

With a wink, Dean replied, _"This isn't finished."_

They'd all seen the movie a million times so the trio ended up goofing off more than really watching it. Echoing movie lines and continuing to talk to each other. By the time two-thirds of the movie was over, Seth had drooped off to sleep against Dean's side. The warmth seeped into his bones and relaxed him into a contented state of drowsiness. At this rate he would soon join him.

Dean was just starting to doze when Roman's voice broke through the haze.

"Movie's over 'n' it's late. I can barely keep my eyes open and you two look no better, so I'm gonna head over to my room 'n' catch some sleep."

"Mmkay. See ya in the mornin', brutha," he replied with a lopsided grin, bumping fists with the older man who ruffled first his hair then Seth's.

Seth attempted to swat Roman away, but missed horribly in his sleep-induced stupor, leaving his two brothers to chuckle at him.

There was the gentle click of the door as Roman saw himself out. He felt the shift of soft fabric and softer skin as Seth burrowed further into his side. Then there was the frictionless transition of Dean's brain from lethargic awareness to the full dormancy of sleep.

 

' _ **Time to wake up.'**_

 

With a gasp that burned his lungs and a thudding heart bruising the inside of his ribcage, Dean's consciousness slammed back into the waking world. So sudden was he jerked from sleep that it took several moments for his mind to catch up with the overwhelming alertness of his body. Slowly the dizzying disorientation dispelled itself as his fully awakened.

He was certain that he just had a nightmare. He couldn't pluck any memorable remnants from the dreamscape he had just escaped from. But the telltale deep rooted dread connected with only the most fearsome of dreams sat heavily upon his chest like a life-sucking entity.

Something wasn't right.

Rattled by the feeling, Dean successfully peeled himself from Seth's still slumbering form and tumbled out of bed onto shaky feet. He gasped again, hand scrabbling at his throat when it seemed like he couldn't catch his breath. No matter how much air he sucked in, it was as though he couldn't get enough oxygen to his lungs to satisfy his panicked brain.

Panic.

It was just another panic attack.

He'd never had one before until his brush with becoming a werewolf. He was quick to recognizing the symptoms after having quite a few of them the last few weeks.

Blue eyes directed their gaze back down to the bed, considering the shadowy outline of other man there. Seth knew just what to do to get him to calm down. His lover able to marry soothing words and touches with patient instruction until Dean felt his head screw back onto his shoulders properly.

He made a step towards the bed but another thought raced up his spine and he stopped in place.

' _Have to do this myself.'_

In just a few short hours they would be going their separate ways. They both had the next two days or so free, however they needed to return to their respective homes. They had bills to pay and perform some upkeep before they went to different sides of the country for a few weekend house shows.

Dean knew all he had to do was plead and Seth would come to stay with him in Vegas. That would be incredibly selfish of him though. Seth had a dog and a family to see and take care of. On the other hand he could ask to go home with Seth. His place didn't require much maintenance and his bills could wait another week or so. But that could be considered just as selfish, him taking up all of Seth's time. Most of all it would defeat the goal he had set for himself to learn to get by without the thoughtful brunet by his side.

This was his battle to fight alone.

' _Gotta get some fresh air.'_

Though jittery and uncoordinated he managed to slip on some more clothes and his sneakers. grabbing his key card, he exited the hotel room, all without tripping over his own feet. The long hall gave him tunnel vision and the elevator ride down to the lobby was abuse to his already shaky equilibrium. It was a wonder he made it out to the front of the hotel without passing out.

At first he started pacing in front of the building, but then he realized that only worked him up more and made the few people still milling about look at him funny. He ignored them and took off at a jog, determined to run all his anxious energy out.

After a lap or two around the building Dean felt like his system was normalizing and he slowed to a stop, stretching so his muscles wouldn't ache so badly in the morning.

The light of the full moon above his head caught his eye and he gave it his regard. A sliver of anxiety lingered and all he could think to do was let it out. And he did, howling raucously at the bright pale orb.

Surprisingly it worked and he found himself laughing at the amazing absurdity that was his life.

Giving the moon one last look, he said, "That's all you'll be getting from me."

Just when all thought of dread seemed erased and he started to make his way back towards the front entrance of the hotel, the sense of wrongness that had awoken him returned like a thief in the night.

Dean stood ramrod straight, on edge as déjà vu slapped him. It wasn't his location or anything he saw at the moment that jogged his memory, this was something instinctual, primal, predatory. He'd felt the same feeling earlier, except it wasn't a complete carbon copy.

There was a feeling of a hunt going on, only this time he wasn't the one doing the hunting.

He was the one being hunted.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can dress it all up, you can try to pretend  
> But you can't change anything  
> You can't change anything  
> In the end
> 
> Don't you fucking know what you are?  
> Go on get back to where you belong!"  
> -Nine Inch Nails "You Know What You Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos on the last chapter. Anyways, after seeing that feels-y Ambrollins moment on RAW I felt like an update was in order. Hope you enjoy!

A familiar scent that Dean hoped he could forget - or at least never have the displeasure of ever smelling again, wafted into his nose, wrinkling it. It was a beastly smell that almost matched that of his once would-be maker, old One-Eye.

' _Shit!'_

He whipped around in a circle, eyes darting all about his surroundings, frantically trying to locate his hunter.

For a small eternity he was for all appearances alone. Then they slunk out of the shadows, two at a time, until he was facing off a group of six sleekly muscled men. They all had appeared so swift and stealthily that Dean realized only after it was too late that he had made the worst mistake in any fight. He'd allowed himself to be boxed in without an easy way to escape.

"Alright fuckers," he rolled his neck, jumped in place, and loosened his arms, warming his muscles back up for the ensuing fight. "You all will probably whoop my ass, but just know this ain't my first rodeo. I never go down easy."

Another shadow came to life out of the corner of his eye and he moved to throw a haymaker. The darkness melted away, the figure taking on the shape of a woman. Dean cursed, awkwardly coming to a stop in front of her.

She spoke evenly, "I suggest you relax your fists. Wouldn't want to make a bad first impression, now would we?"

Dean inwardly amended his initial assessment. She possessed some curves, was a little on the tall side, and spoke with the self-confidence of a woman. But judging by her waif-like face, she was just a teenager; and he had almost hauled off and hit her.

The girl's hair was long – though one side of her head was shaved – and dyed two two different shades of blue. Rounding out her look was a black tank top, faded and distressed jeans, and a pair of calf-high biker boots. Her appearance screamed rebellious teen.

Dean's eye ticked in irritation.

' _She smells like the rest of them,'_  he determined,  _'Can't underestimate her.'_

"Who are you and what do you want?" he directed his questions at the girl.

"My name is Gemma," she answered in that same even tone, "You've got a hearing to attend, so come with us. Oh and it's in your best interest if you come quietly."

"And if I don't?" he chanced. He'd meant to ask about this hearing she spoke of, but the tail end of her statement brought out the defiant streak in him.

"We'll drag your ass there and you might arrive in pieces," spat one of the pieces of man-meat to his right."

"Sounds like a real good time, Sparky, but you're not my type. In fact I want nothing to do with any of you flea-bitten mutts."

"The only  _Mutt_  here is you," the asshole snarled back, tensing as though readying to attack.

Dean was confused for a beat, but ignored what was said, instead widening his stance in preparation for a fight.

"In case you didn't know, I cured myself of that fuckin' curse," he said, thinking they still assumed he was one of them. Then the thought occurred to him that they knew that, but hoped to turn him again or something. To drive his point home, he added, "I'm not going back either."

He continued to face off with his opponent, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Gemma then stepped between them.

"Quit your dick measuring contest, both of you," she looked at Dean, "You didn't cure yourself. For those that are bitten there is no cure. The only thing you did was prevent yourself from becoming stuck in your wolf form forever."

A chill ran up Dean's spine and his stance faltered.

"You…" his voice came out smaller than he intended and he quickly checked his mistake, "you're lying."

"I know you want me to be," she said, and he heard a hint of sympathy there, "but I also know that you know, deep down, that I'm telling you the truth. Please come with us peacefully. It will help your chances at the hearing and I'm sure you'll better understand everything afterwards."

He wanted so badly to oppose what she was asking of him, to tell them all to fuck off or fight them. Maybe both. On the other hand she did seem to be speaking the truth. He could still sniff out the Blow Pops and Sour Patch Kids before he even knew where the candy aisle was located at gas stations he'd never been to before. Then there was the incident with Styles at the arena.

The girl had also said "For those that are bitten." Weren't all werewolves bitten?

"Fine," Dean reluctantly relaxed himself, just a fraction, "but if any of these fuzz nuts touch me, I'm giving myself permission to break fingers. We clear?"

Gemma appraised him with an amused quirk of her lips. "Crystal."

"Then lead the way."

The girl nodded and began walking. The men followed as he did, maintaining their positions around him, corralling him like an unruly mustang. They didn't have far to go as the werewolves' destination turned out to be a warehouse just a few buildings away from the hotel. The warehouse looked to have been abandoned recently. It was fairly empty except for some forgotten equipment and boxes. Oh and the addition of three more big guys standing inside.

"Nine on one…I like these odds."

"Believe it or not, we're not here to fight," said the man at the middle of the trio before him, "if you play your cards right, that is."

The man seemed older than the rest of the posse, but it was kind of hard to peg his true age. He could be anywhere between forty and sixty. A long craggy scar started at his left temple and ran diagonally across his face, disappearing into the beard covering his jawline. His hair had once been red, but it was fading into a golden blond. The length of it fell roughly at his shoulders; some of the strands braided, others in tangled bunches. The scar, hairstyle, blue eyes, and stocky build coupled with the plaid clothes and furs, gave this man the appearance of a modern day berserker.

He was definitely the leader here.

Dean took in the sight of the two younger men flanking the leader. Both had varying degrees of red hair and shared the same light-colored eyes as the older man. He was willing to bet they were all three related somehow, probably the leader's sons or nephews. Most likely sons.

After cataloguing his rough estimates of the trio's height and weight and appearances, he decided they were the real threats and that the rest of the group were just grunts following orders.

Dean said, "I do know all my cards, I live in Vegas after all. Now let's cut to the chase, 'cause I really want to catch up on some siesta time."

The leader let out a snort. His expression went from stoic, to mildly amused, to mildly ticked off in two seconds flat. "A real funny man, huh?"

Dean shrugged. "Keeps life entertaining."

"Oh don't worry, you're life's about to get a whole lot more interesting, Dean," the man stepped forward a few paces. "My name is Ulfric Burke, Alpha of The Sentinel pack and Pure Alpha over all werewolves."

This time it was Dean who snorted, "Sounds like you're the Führer of fleabags then."

"Watch your mouth, bastard," One of Ulfric's sons growled, eyes glowing as he lurched forward.

H

Ulfric said nothing though, stopping the hotheaded man with one burly arm. This one seemed to be the older of the two sons, right around his age, while the other looked to be just out of his teens.

Dean smirked tauntingly at the other man before his gaze flickered back to Ulfric, his tone sobering some, "How do you know my name and where to find me? 'Cause that's seriously fucking creepy."

He knew that for the regular person all it took was for them to Google him. But they would have had to be watching WWE programming, or most likely people wouldn't know who he was by name. And for hardcore fans, all it took was to track what cities he was expected to be traveling to. With a little more digging and determination, they could find what airport or hotel he would staying at

But for a group of werewolves it could prove to be much easier if they had his scent somehow. It was how One-Eye had tracked him all over the country. He hadn't run into another group of werewolves before however, as far as he knew at least. And from the slightly off-the-grid look of these guys, he doubted that these werewolves watched WWE religiously.

Except for maybe that Gemma girl perhaps. She looked like she kept up with the times.

Either way it was damn disconcerting.

"We have our ways," says Ulfric, "And just about every werewolf and member of the Inhuman community knows about you. Your existence has pissed a lot of people off."

"Well tell 'em all to get in line, 'cause that ain't anything new."

Ulfric got in his face then, blue eyes glowing ominously and his hair streaking white from the roots.

"This isn't a game, Mutt!" he roared, "You're  _very_  lucky that we come to you from The Council with a proposition and not an execution order. But keep pushing that luck and you might die anyway."

At that Dean gave a slow swallow but caught himself before he could further betray his sudden spike in anxiety.

Ulfric continued, "The fact that you allowed yourself go on wrestling and be so widely televised while in your Enwolfened state threatened not just our kind to exposure, but all Inhumans. Usually that means certain death. But someone, who has a very high seat on The Council, pulled a helluva lot of strings and vouched for you. The Council was swayed into  _sparing_  you."

The way that last part had been spat led Dean to surmising that Ulfric was one of the many calling for his blood.

"If it were up to me alone, I'd tear your throat out right now," the Alpha continued, confirming Dean's assumption. "But in this matter, it isn't, or at least not entirely. I do have the power to decide if you're truly an asset or a liability. Your life still depends on how you handle yourself right here and now."

"And what does that entail?" Dean asked, defiantly keeping eye contact though his life was on the line and probably every move he made mattered in that.

"First it depends on your ability to control your Change. Mutts cannot Change as smoothly as we do, and a Mutt that cannot control when he becomes a wolf is worth less than nothing. We're going to test that then—"

"Hold it," Dean cut him off, his ire raising. The hotheaded ginger next to Lucian looked like he wanted to jump him for interrupting his old man. He ignored him. "What's this  _mutt_  shit? I've been called that three fucking times now."

Ulfric eyed him, his eyes and hair having faded back to normal minutes ago.

"You really don't know?"

"He's completely clueless," Gemma spoke up and Dean felt even more offended, "he thought he cured himself. He knows next to nothing about what he is."

"Well gee, sorry for not attending werewolf 101," he snapped back at her.

How dare these high and mighty fucks act like any of this was his fault. He didn't ask to be bitten. He'd almost killed himself because of it. Where the hell were all these people when he was really in need of their help? He'd been the one to save himself with Seth's help. If they asked him, he'd say he'd been pretty damn good since. And yet these werewolf yuppies were treating him like he was some uncontrollable lost cause.

"A Mutt is what you are, Dean." Ulfric explained, "There are Mutt werewolves and Wolfborn werewolves. Purebloods being the strongest and rarest of the Wolfborn, coming from two Wolfborn parents. The difference between we Wolfborn and Mutts is that Mutts are bitten to become werewolves, not born into the gift. We also have more control over ourselves than your kind."

"That a fact?" Dean countered, his lip curling with anger.

This guy was really pissing him off.

"It is," Ulfric replied, self-assurance so thick that his face was just begging to be punched. Dean stayed his fists though. "Now as you said earlier, let's cut to the chase. You're going to be tested. First, you're either going either Change into a wolf and back without too much of a fuss.  _Or_ you're going to die before you can take one step toward that exit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ulfric's name is yet another nod to Skyrim (I love that game). Anyways, I'd love to hear some feedback on how this is going. They give me more confidence to keep updating and writing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Just a reflection  
> Just a glimpse  
> Just a little reminder  
> Of all the what abouts  
> And all the might have  
> Could have beens  
> Another day  
> Some other way  
> But not another reason to continue  
> And now you're one of us  
> The wretched
> 
> The hopes and prays  
> The better days  
> The far aways  
> Forget it
> 
> It didn't turn out the way you wanted it to  
> It didn't turn out the way you wanted it to, did it?  
> It didn't turn out the way you wanted it to  
> It didn't turn out the way you wanted it to, did it?"  
> -Nine Inch Nails "The Wretched"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments. Keep them coming!

Ulfric backed away from Dean and after giving a nod, the rest of his pack also gave him some space. He was still surrounded but at least he now had room to breathe, to ready a counter measure should they attack unprovoked.

"Right, can't be too hard," Dean said.

' _Who am I kidding? I haven't ever Changed under my own power,'_  his mind flailed a little as he drew a blank at what he was supposed to do.

He had no wolfsbane, and though the moon was full, he had yet to feel his body's inclination to Change into a wolf all night. Maybe he had to get into the right mindset. He was just starting to try and think like a wolf, remembering how it felt when he was last in that form, when Gemma spoke up.

"You might want to take your clothes off."

Dean whipped head in the girl's direction. Visions of stalker fangirls he had dealt with in the past filling his head and dispersing his earlier train of thought. "Excuse me?"

"You'll destroy your clothes if you change with them on," she elaborated, "and it might help if you get down on all fours."

"Hush Gemma," Ulfric reprimanded her, "he is to figure it out on his own."

Dean's eyes flicked between them, one brow arched as he tried to figure out if the girl was messing with him or not.

' _Whatever,'_  he thought as he started chucking off his t-shirt and shorts,  _'this isn't the worst thing you could ever do.'_

Still he was about to put himself in this position in front of someone who might be under aged. It caused his balls to shrink up inside him a little.

"Just promise me one thing, girly," he said, fingers on the elastic of his underwear, "No fuckin' cell phone pictures of this."

Gemma rolled her eyes quite hard. "Please, you're not that great. This is more like seeing my big brother naked. Does nothing for me."

' _Ouch, not even twenty and she's crushing men.'_

At least she made him feel a bit better about what he was doing and he was able to slide out of his Hanes. The awkwardness returned as he lowered himself to his hands and knees on the dusty concrete floor.

Dean looked around at everyone. "Usually when you see scenes like this, someone's about to get gangbanged."

"Quit with the funny business," barked Ulfric's hotheaded older son.

"Whoa, chill out Clifford The Big Red fucking Dog," Dean retorted. It only appeared to piss the guy off more, but it was worth it to hear the several snickers among the pack circled around him as the joke quickly caught on.

"Enough!" Ulfric shouted and everyone went silent as the grave.

' _Fuck, no more stalling then.'_

Dean stared at his hands in an attempt to forget that he had an audience looking at his naked ass and a death threat hanging over his head. He focused instead on his bringing out his inner wolf. He hadn't heard its manic voice for some time now, which aided in the idea he been carrying that he was cured.

' _Come out, come out, wherever you are, bastard.'_

He heard nothing but the buzzing of his own ears in the deafening quiet.

Maybe it needed some coaxing.

' _If you come out now, I'll give you a nice, juicy steak.'_

Nothing.

He even went so far as to imagine himself tossing a 72-ounce steak into the void where he'd felt the wolf lurked within his consciousness so many times before.

' _I guess you want something more visceral then.'_

Replaying memories of what it felt like to rip into the warm flesh of One-Eye's belly felt like a good route to take. He could still almost taste the spray of blood and entrails flooding his mouth. Almost sense the animalistic thrill of the kill.

Silence.

' _Fucker! Get your ass out here or we're both gonna be dog food!'_

' _ **You really don't**_ _ **get it do you?'**_  came a familiar gravely, yet honeyed voice.

Two blue coals gleamed from the depths of the void.

Dean's eyes burned in their sockets as though he had dry eye, but ten times worse. His scalp then began to blaze.

He didn't need a mirror to know that his eyes were glowing now too. The strands of hair that always fell into his face began streaking white before his very eyes. His gums and all the digits on his hands and feet seared white hot with burning pain accompanying the lengthening of his teeth and nails.

He doubled over, bracing himself for the anatomical explosion that normally came with the full Change.

"Fuck!  _Fuck!_ " Dean howled, writhing on the floor, his body seizing, expanding, contracting, over and over again.

It didn't happen fast this time, it came gradually.

His body felt uncooperative with the change, fighting it the entire way. It was like every cell in his body was taking its sweet time to mutate. He could feel each individual muscle fiber stretching, each bone shifting, elongating. The very worst was the transfiguration of his skull and spine.

To Dean, the death matches he used to do were pillow fights compared to the levels of agony he was experiencing now.

Finally after a small, but torturous eternity, his back suddenly ripped open and his homo-sapien skin sloughed off his lupine frame.

The Change took a lot out of him. His legs wobbled a little like a newborn deer as it took a good deal of energy for him to remain upright.

And he felt ravenous with hunger.

Ulfric nodded to one of his underlings and the grunt walked to another part of the warehouse. He soon returned with an unconscious woman. Dean could tell she was still alive because he could still hear her heartbeat.

She was tossed before him like a sacrificial offering.

Hunger renewed its gnawing at Dean's stomach as he overlooked such vulnerable prey. Saliva dripped in oozing tendrils from his muzzle. He lumbered closer; wanting to bathe his tongue in fresh blood, strip meat and marrow from bone, and swallow organs.

Just as he opened his eager maw to rip into the soft column of the woman's neck, a displeasing scent engulfed his nose.

' _Wait, she doesn't smell right.'_

Her meat smelled spoiled, packed full of all sorts of chemicals and hormones that didn't appeal to his pallet in the slightest.

Instead he longed for gamy, yet clean sinew, like that which he feasted on the last time he donned the cloak of the wolf.

It didn't dispel the fact that he craved nourishment after such an intense Change. He really did want to eat, but he was unsure how this offering would satisfy him.

Was she drugged? Would eating her drug him as well?

He didn't like this, so he paced back and forth before the woman before ultimately plopping down on his haunches in disgust.

He didn't want this…thing.

Another nod from Ulfric and the woman was taken away. In exchange, the carcass of a recently killed doe was presented to him.

The pungent, wild perfume sent Dean into a frenzy. He barely waited until the prey was out of the grunt's hands before tearing into the corpse with rabid voracity.

' _So good.'_

' _ **So good~'**_  echoed the wolf.

He consumed every scrap of muscle, cracked into every bone, and sank his teeth into every organ until all that remained was a mangled skeleton. Lastly he savored the tangy blood that he licked off his paws and muzzle with care.

The only thing that would have made that meal better would be if he had freshly killed it himself.

Ulfric began speaking again, "Not bad. Now let's see how well you can Change back into a man."

' _ **Fuck that, I want to hunt,'**_  said the wolf.

Dean had to agree. He didn't feel like his hunger had been completely satiated yet. He wanted to run, wanted to chase, to devour. He wanted Seth.

_Seth._

The wolf groaned.  _ **'You're such a sap,'**_ and yet it was said with little heat. There was a hint of fondness, as though the wolf shared the same yearning as he did. Well they did inhabit the same body.

The transition back to his original form was much more smooth. During the reversion, the wolf made a snorting sound.

' _ **And you still don't get it.'**_

' _What am I supposed to get?'_

But the wolf was gone back to the hidden fringes of his consciousness without another word.

Once again he was a man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May take a little bit longer before I write more. I've got a job now, plus an art commission I'm working on. Hopefully after the commission is done I'll have more time to write. Thankfully there are still some chapters to post before you all are completely caught up to what I've written.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Moon hangs around  
> A blade over my head  
> Reminds me  
> What to do before I'm dead
> 
> Night consumes light  
> And all I dread  
> Reminds me what to do before I'm dead  
> Sun reclines, heats my mind
> 
> Reminds me what to leave behind  
> Light eats night and all I never said  
> Reminds me what to do before I'm  
> To see you
> 
> To touch you"  
> -The Kidney Thieves "Before I'm Dead"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos, etc.~ Hope you enjoy the update!

"I must admit, I'm impressed," Ulfric said, "Your control over your Change is quite good. Well for a Mutt, anyway."

Dean ignored the Alpha's pseudo praise, choosing to focus his attentions on getting dressed again.

"Now with that out of the way, let's move on to our proposition."

"What d'ya want?" he asked. He slipped his head through the gap of his t-shirt, hands smoothing the material over his torso.

"For you to become our new enforcer," Ulfric replied, "to police the other Mutts. Most of them are assigned to their own packs and territories. Though there are others that have slipped through the cracks and roam freely. I want you to make sure they are staying in line and conforming to our laws, as well as other minor roles. Don't worry, you'll know the full details of your duties in time."

Dean narrowed his eyes at the older man, "Why don't you or your lackeys do it?"

"I have more pressing matters to attend to," he chuckled like the job was far beneath him, "as Pure Alpha of our race and a holder of a seat of The Council. There are very few of us Wolfborn left and as Alpha of my pack it is my job to act in their best interest. If I have a choice, I will not put my pack mates in any unnecessary danger."

"Ohh I get it. I'm expendable."

Ulfric didn't say anything, but his shark-like grin was all the answer Dean needed.

"And what if I say no to being your little Gestapo?" Dean challenged.

"Then you forfeit your life."

Dean clenched his hands into tight fists. "You do realize I have another job that demands a hell of a lot of my time. I don't plan on quitting it just because you threatened my life. Wrestling is my fucking life."

Ulfric clapped him hard on the shoulder, jarring his joint to the point of near dislocation. Dean wanted to rip his arm off.

"You seem to be an adaptable guy. I'm sure you can make it work."

"So you're pretty much leaving me with no choice."

"There's always a choice," that same smarmy smirk pulled at Ulfric's lips.

Grinding his teeth together, Dean glared at the other man for several moments, inwardly seething but also understanding that his hands were tied. Even if he was able to kill Ulfric and his band, he was certain the situation he found himself in wouldn't just disappear.

Surely this group didn't make up the entirety of the pack. If Ulfric were a smart leader, he would have a base of operations, and therefore would have left more subordinates to guard it. If this portion of the pack was able to track him down, so would the others, hell bent on avenging their Alpha.

That and Ulfric said he held a seat with The Council. Sounded like a committee made up of all the big wigs in the non-human world or whatever it was he called it.

Inhuman. That's what it was called. Inhuman.

If he killed one of The Council members then he'd not only have werewolves up his ass, but whatever other kinds of Inhumans that existed as well.

Until a better solution to getting out of this situation surfaced he'd have to play by their game.

Dean bit his cheek hard enough to taste blood. "When do I start?"

"Smart choice, kid," Ulfric clapped his shoulder once more then released him, "…We'll be in touch."

He wanted badly to let his smart mouth fly, but by now he was tired, annoyed, and just wanted to get back to his hotel room, back to Seth. So he let them go.

"See you soon," Gemma said. She then stepped away to join her pack as they made their exit, leaving him alone in the building.

Instead of heading straight back to the hotel, Dean lingered at the empty warehouse, letting the full weight of the situation settle on him.

Just when he was beginning to think he had rid himself of werewolves, he got dragged right back into the midst of them. He'd become complacent in his happy little world of being with Seth and being World Champion. Allowing for the wool to be pulled over his eyes. Letting himself believe everything was hunky-dory again.

Why did it always have to be this way for him?

' _Why didn't you tell me you were still around, that there was no cure?'_  he mentally asked the wolf inside him.

He was met with more of the silent treatment.

Dean growled. "Fucker."

A strong hankering for a cigarette gave him the final push to move his feet and trek back to the hotel.

He reentered the room quietly to avoid waking Seth. Except for shifting in his sleep, Seth appeared to have slept throughout the length of his absence.

Dean stood over the bed for a moment, watching his lover sleep. He considered shaking Seth awake immediately to vent his situation, but the dreadful shiver that climbed his spine stopped him cold.

It had been all right for Seth to know what was going on before when it seemed like the issue only encompassed him alone. And it wasn't like he could've shut the other man out for long. HeeHe had been there to witness old One-Eye attacking him. Biting him. He saw the Transformation that happened to Dean.

This time though, he was dealing with the werewolf mafia and a whole world filled with other supernatural things. And they all seemed keen on keeping their existence hidden from humans.

A train of thought relating to Seth then flew into his head.  _'Did The Sentinels know about Seth? That he knew about werewolves?'_

The shiver of worry that coiled his spine suddenly spiked into quiet panic as he, to the best of his ability, replayed everything the other wolves said to him. He shook his head, relief surging through him. Neither Ulfric nor any one of his cronies had mentioned anything hinting towards them knowing that Seth was his boyfriend; much less that he knew the existence of at least one race of Inhumans.

For now his lover wasn't a target, but how Dean played his hand from now on would determine whether or not he would become one.

He carefully weighed his options. If he told Seth, that would make one less person he'd have to hide things from and one more person he could vent his evitable grievances to. Plus there was the old adage in relationships: Love cannot make a home where lies and secrets sleep.

However, if he told Seth, knowing the other man, he'd want to try and help him in any way he could, even if it meant confronting other werewolves or Ulfric himself. Seth would refuse to be kept at the sidelines once he knew, even if that meant it could get him killed.

If The Sentinels got ahold of Seth he would do anything to ensure his lover's safety. And that scared him.

They already had his life in their hands. He wasn't about to add another.

This time Dean had the option to let Seth in on his secret. And it seemed that the less he knew, the less danger he'd be in. In fact perhaps the timing of the brand split was a blessing in disguise.

Seth had to be safe no matter what, even if that meant he had to stay away from him.

Dean leaned over, pressing a long, gentle kiss to Seth's temple, soaking up his taste and scent before moving to his bags. He had quit smoking again after he killed One-Eye, but he hung on to the last pack. At the time it seemed foolish. Now he was grateful that he had kept them. Otherwise he might start bouncing off the walls like a caged monkey.

After opening the sliding door and moving onto the balcony of their room Dean dug out a cigarette and his trusty zippo. He stuck the filter between his lips, lit the end, then took a deep drag.

Slowly the caustic smoke washed over him, taking the edge off. In the middle of the haze, caught between forced calm and adrenaline, lyrics floated into his head. Unable to stop himself, he murmured them in time with the tune of the guitar only he could hear.

"You got a way to keep me on your side

You give me cause for love that I can't hide

For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide

Because you're mine, I walk the line."

"Dean?"

Dean blew the smoke out into the wind then turned towards the sleepy voice inside the room. "Mornin' sunshine," he said.

Seth stretched with a groan that went straight to Dean's cock. The brunet reached for his glasses and his phone to get the time.

" 'S 3:15," Seth put everything back, rubbing his tired eyes. He glanced at the glowing tip of cigarette. "Couldn't sleep?"

Dean wanted to answer that he'd slept just fine and that the smoke meant nothing, but the lie got lodged in his throat.

Seth sat up then, suddenly fully alert. "You okay?"

Looking down at his hand, Dean thought about putting the spent cigarette out on the back of it. He thought better of it though, and stamped it out on the railing before tossing it out onto the parking lot below.

"No I'm not," he admitted, his voice sounding hoarse, "I'm not ready for this."

He couldn't tell Seth about the biggest issue in his life, but he at least get the thing with the draft off his chest once more.

Without a word, Seth made his way over. Warm hands framed Dean's face, lifting his gaze from his hand to meet eyes not too different from that of the doe he'd gorged on earlier. The only contrast being that Seth's stare wasn't vacant with death.

He never wanted to see Seth's eyes look like that. Not ever.

Dean pushed his forehead against Seth's, words escaping through clenched teeth, "Need you."

Pressing a brief, but yearning kiss to his lips, Seth took his hand. "C'mere," he said, leading the way back to the bed.

They paused bedside to remove Dean of the clothes he had thrown on and Seth of his sleepwear.

Part of him wanted to take Seth fast and hard. In lieu of that, he trailed his fingers unhurriedly along the ridges formed by his lover's muscles.

Whenever he touched Seth, it was like feeling him for the first time. He knew every inch of that bronzed skin and yet it never failed to spark him with overwhelming excitement, to stoke the fires of his lust into an inferno. By now though he'd learned to harness the furnace, that he could keep the heat to a slow burn before letting it blaze.

No, he'd keep things slow and heady. He wanted, needed to commit every moment to memory. He didn't know when he'd get the chance to again.

Seth quivered, pressing their bodies flush as Dean teased his neck and clavicle with his mouth. He ghosted his hand over the other's stiffening length, to which Seth breathed his name in response.

For a while they simply touched, mapping one another with fingers and lips, holding each other close. Dean then gave Seth's ass a squeeze before turning to root around for the lube. After coating his fingers, he eased them one at a time into Seth's body, slowly opening him up.

With every pump of his digits Dean heard soft little gasps coming out of Seth's mouth. Wanting to hear more of those sounds, he curled his fingers and added a little twist to his rhythm.

The resulting moan that came from Seth almost wrecked Dean completely.

Seth felt and sounded ready. Dean became torn between wanting to draw out their pleasure and wanting to be inside Seth.

He must've stopped moving his hand at one point during his pondering because Seth gave an impatient whine before pulling Dean back with him onto the bed, his fingers leaving Seth's ass along the way.

Their lips met again as Dean slicked himself up. Without breaking the kiss, he hitched Seth's leg up with one hand while the opposite hand guided his throbbing cock into his lover's body. They took a moment to drink each other in, then Dean began rocking his hips steadily back and forth. Seth's hips eagerly canted to receive each thrust deeper.

Gripping his copper curls, Seth kept their lips molded together as though Dean could be ripped away at any time. An aching formed in Dean's heart at the gesture, leaving him breathless. His hand tightened minutely on Seth's thigh.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," Seth said between kisses, "Ya know that right?"

"I know," Dean's voice sounded like his vocal chords had been dragged across forty-grit sandpaper. Rough and a little broken even to his own ears. "Me neither."

He shifted and the change in angle brought moans and curses from their lips. The heat and friction between them overflowing and becoming all consuming.

The power behind his thrusts increased, filling the room with echoes of skin slapping skin. In turn the need for air suddenly burned at their lungs. They broke the kiss and Dean lowered his head to Seth's neck, panting against sweaty, stubbly skin. Despite feeling deprived of oxygen, Seth was like a drug. And like an addict, he couldn't stop his lips from trailing over the other man's pulse, tongue dragging up to his bearded jawline.

Seth's hands slipped from Dean's hair down his back. The brunet's blunt fingernails digging in and scoring down, before one hand retreated to wrap itself around his neglected cock. The other palm snuck down to rest on the cheek of Dean's ass. The hand gripped the muscle tightly, a silent plea for him to go faster.

That was all it took for the carefully constructed control Dean had been exercising thus far to go up in flames. A mangled moan tore through his chest and out his throat, hips moving at a feverish pace.

Seth came first, his euphoric whimper swallowed up by Dean's lips kissing him soundly.

Dean followed a little bit after, his fingers tensing with each white-hot spurt of his release. He knew Seth's thigh would be sporting a bruise in the shape of his hand for the next few days. Just like he knew his back possessed lines of red welts in the wake of Seth's nails.

A spent smile up turned his mouth at the thought. He felt Seth form a grin of his own, their lips still pressed close.

When he began to soften, Dean shifted just enough to slide himself out then he plopped his cheek down on his lover's collarbone.

He knew they should probably get up and shower or they would be plastered together with sweat and semen, but he was too damn tired, and Seth's body felt too damn warm and comfortable.

He wanted to soak up what remained of their time together. Hold onto what remained of this shared moment, and keep it stashed away for as long as he could – like the photograph a soldier kept of his sweetheart. Dean had plenty of photos of Seth on his phone, but found he often liked the photos he kept in his mind best.

Life was about experience, living in the moment. Not worrying about trying to capture everything on camera.

A warm hand swept over his forehead, brushing back some sweaty curls that were stuck there. Seth was about as keen on moving as he was.

"Just don't drool on me and we'll be fine."

Dean snorted back a laugh. "Covered in sweat and cum and you're worried about my drool? You've really got your priorities straight."

Seth chuckled heartily and Dean could feel the vibrations through his chest. It made his heart ache again.

"Not like your drool needs to be added to it. Besides having my priorities straight is why you love me so much."

"That and a hundred other reasons," mumbled Dean.

' _Fuck. How am I gonna do all of this without you?'_

Seth yawned and as though reading his mind, said, "You'll be fine."

Dean just nodded and tucked his head under the brunet's chin, murmuring a "Love you," which Seth returned.

Though they both felt varying measures of fatigue coursing through their veins, they didn't actually fall back into deep sleep. They merely dozed as they were, sharing the simple pleasure of being close until it was time to get ready to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again feedback of any sort is greatly appreciated


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You say it's all a crisis  
> You say it's all a blur  
> There comes a time you gotta,  
> Face it, face it"  
> -Sixx:A.M. "This is Gonna Hurt"

"Can you two be any more conspicuous?" Roman asked in partial amusement.

The trio of brothers had already checked in their luggage at the airport. They had some time to kill before they had to head through security and to their respective terminals. So they had stuck around to enjoy what little time they had left.

Roman continued, "You guys stand any closer and TSA will need a crowbar to pry you apart with."

Dean and Seth looked themselves over, noticing for the first time in about an hour that they were pressed from shoulder to hip together. Roman made another joke about if they put on a giant shirt and pair of pants that they'd look like cheap sideshow conjoined twins.

With a grunt and a grumble they shifted apart after excrutiating hesitancy.

"Whoa," Roman held his hands up, "I didn't say you had to separate. I was just messing with you guys." He then looked at them thoughtfully. "Have you told the top brass yet?"

"No," both Seth and Dean replied in unison.

Roman raised his brow. "Were you planning to tell them?"

Dean looked at Seth as if he knew all the answers; he was the planner after all. Seth looked back at Dean, seemingly just as confused.

Shit.

"We," Seth began slowly, "haven't really talked about that yet."

"Hey, I was just waiting on him to bring it up," Dean quipped, jabbing his thumb at Seth. Honestly he'd pretty much be okay with whatever his counterpart wanted to do.

Seth swiveled his head to look at him. "Why do you have to wait on me?"

Dean just shrugged. "You're the one that plans everything."

"And why do I have to plan everything?"

" 'Cause you're the thinker and you're good at it."

"You guys know if you had told Vince and the board of directors that you might have been drafted to the same brand?" Roman cuts in.

Dean's eyes widened and he looked at his older brother the same time Seth did.

Roman went on, "Jimmy and Naomi were worried about it. But they found out that all couples were put into consideration before the draft. Almost all of them on the main roster were drafted together."

' _Well fuck.'_

"Might have worked," Roman shrugged his big shoulders, "then again, maybe not, but it couldn't have hurt to try."

Dean was about to talk about his screw ups with planning, but Seth beat him to the verbal punch.

"Probably not. I doubt they would have catered to us the same way."

Dean swallowed the words that had been bouncing around in his head. He hadn't thought of that either, but Seth made a valid point. Besides, who could know what it would have done to their individual careers if they just came out willy-nilly.

"What's done is done," he agreed, putting his arm around Seth, " 'sides, we'll be fine. It'll make us stronger."

' _ **You didn't sound so sure of that last night,'**_  the wolf said.

' _Now you fucking decide to show up? Fuck you. You don't get to just pop up in my personal life like this after I needed your help last night, hell for weeks now. So unless I really need you, shut up and bounce.'_

' _ **You think that's how it works?'**_  the wolf laughed,  _ **'Fine, you might live to regret that.'**_

' _Whatever.'_

"That's what I said," Seth agreed with his earlier statement.

Dean put on a brave face, but Roman gave him that all-knowing big brother look. The one that said he wasn't not buying what he's was selling, but would go along with it anyway. Seth didn't notice the look. It was one that Roman had long reserved solely for Dean.

Roman looked at his phone then grabbed his carry-on bag. "Well you two take care of yourselves. See ya in a few days, Seth. And Dean, see ya when fate's not such a fickle bitch."

Dean opened his arms. "Bring it in, brutha. Group hug." He practically jumped on the big Samoan, throwing his arms around Roman's neck.

Roman let out an "Omph," but returned the hug heartily. The air was knocked out of both of them when Seth joined in. They huddled together like that for a few more minutes.

"Tell the tike and the misses hi for us," said Seth, patting the big man on the back.

"Will do. You guys stay out of trouble."

Dean knew that was meant mostly for him. He childishly stuck out his tongue. "Fine, mom."

Roman reluctantly pulled away from them to head to the line for security check, waving and saying, "later," over his shoulder.

A prickle of what could be a tear worked its way into the corner of his eye as he watched the back of his big brother get smaller and smaller. Dean coughed, willing his leaking tear duct to think twice about the water works.

He then began to wonder what Roman would think of the trouble he got himself into last night.

Seth rested his hand on his shoulder, also watching Roman go. He gave a gentle squeeze. A minute amount of tension left Dean's body in response to the touch. If only he didn't feel like Atlas he would have relaxed more.

"I wanted to ask," Seth was the one to break the silence between them, "Last night. You and AJ…you looked pretty intense."

Of course he noticed that when no one else did, but that was still one person too many. Dean tensed back up, mind once again going back to whether or not he should tell Seth about his new "gig".

Seth paused, checking for eavesdroppers before whispering, "You seemed to be doing really good lately. I saw how you got into AJ's face though…then there was the full moon."

"I'm good," Dean put his hand over Seth's, squeezing it. "I've been intimidating little shrimps long before I became a werewolf, baby. Nothing to worry about." He put his dimples on full display and Seth all but melted.

The relief was palpable.

"That's good to hear."

When no one seemed to be paying attention to them, Seth snuck a kiss to the patch of skin right below his ear.

Dean's body wanted to enjoy the intimate gesture, but his mind wasn't having it. Thoughts were caught between running a million miles a minute and sticking in a quagmire.

If Seth knew he was still a werewolf, would he—

' _No,'_  he mentally shook himself,  _'he doesn't know and he doesn't need to.'_

A look at his watch told him it was nearing time for him to head for his own terminal. And judging by the line building up before the security checkpoint, he'd better leave soon.

Rather than focusing on the ifs and whens, Dean pulled Seth into an alcove and gave into a fantasy he had the last time he and his lover were alone in an airport. He sealed his lips over Seth's, devouring the other man in an all consuming kiss.

Seth bit and sucked on his lower lip, hands fisting the material of his hoody.

"Feels like you're seeing me off to war or something," Dean said when they eventually pulled apart.

"You better come back to me then."

Tears pricked at Dean's eyes again, the full weight of what he got himself into crushing his shoulders like the mass of the world. This gig could legit kill him and this could be the last time he saw Seth alive.

Dean didn't feel the tears streaming soundlessly down his cheeks until two thumbs come up to tenderly wipe the moisture away. Glistening brown eyes gaze soulfully back at him.

"Oh Dean," was all Seth can seem to say, voice breaking as tears began to trickle down from his eyes too. He leaned in for another kiss, one gentler, but no less consuming as the first.

Dean pressed back, holding Seth tightly to him.

They breathed each other in until the last possible second then Seth playfully shooed Dean back so he could wipe away his tears. "Text me when you land."

Dean wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Got it."

"Now get going before I stuff you into my carry-on," Seth threatened, trying to hide a sniffle with half assed tough talk.

"Not before you say the magic words."

"I love you." This time Seth did sniffle.

Dean kissed him once more, whispering, "I love you, too," against his lips. He then walked backwards toward security where Roman disappeared some time ago. All the while Seth stood watching him almost unblinkingly.

Just before the growing crowd engulfed him in the line, he turned back to Seth and blew him a kiss.

* * *

 

Dean touched down at Henderson airport after a few hours in the air. He shot a few texts to Seth and Roman then drove straight home.

He cleaned out his fridge, bought some new groceries for his brief stay, did laundry. Then he texted some more with Seth and Roman, then with Jimmy as well to secure a ride with him and his twin. Lastly he cooked himself dinner, happy to not have to rely on fast food and carry-out like he normally did on the road.

During the time it took to complete all of that he was able to keep his full focus on those menial yet essential tasks. Once they were out of the way and his hands were idle, however, his mind immediately began bouncing around his skull.

When would The Sentinels contact him? How would they do it? Would they ambush him again or knock on his front door or something? What would his first gig be?

' _Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck!'_

Before he knew it he was aimlessly pacing the entire square footage of his house, like a caged tiger, hands tugging at his hair and gnashing his teeth. He stopped himself before the anxiety got out of control.

He grabbed his coat and keys and headed out into the night, hitting up every sight on the Vegas strip though he'd seen them all before.

The rest of his time off was spent in the desert; camping, hiking, climbing, keeping his body and senses in shape. He also FaceTimed with Seth, letting him know he was okay.

On Friday he flew out to Abilene for a WWE Live event, then rode with the twins and Naomi to two more house shows in San Angelo and San Antonio. He defended his WWE World title against Styles and Bray at each event.

Monday he went to Texarkana for one last house show, wrestling in another triple threat match.

Now he was in Dallas for SmackDown Live, preparing for his match.

Still there was no hide or hair of the fleabags. Were they trying to make him sweat or was work that slow? Guess he shouldn't complain.

Dean headed to Gorilla _. 'Whatever. Fuck 'em. I've got more important things to worry about.'_

Like locking horns with the still relatively new Baron Corbin.

He'd seen glimpses of Corbin the last several months, but had never worked with him or even talked to him before. From what he'd seen out of him, Corbin could use a few lessons in charisma. But for a big man, he moved fast, and he had some interesting moves he could work with.

Then there was Styles at commentary. Dean was banking on tonight being interesting.

As Dean got closer to Gorilla he caught a whiff of something abnormal, sending his senses into high alert. His nostrils flared, breathing in the smell so that he tasted it on his tongue. The odor wasn't black and white. It was intermingled with many other distracting smells. However he was able to pick out something discernable. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood on end.

Werewolf.

Were they backstage, right here and now?

He tried sniffing the air more thoroughly to see if he could identify any of The Sentinels he had encountered before as well as which direction they might have came from or went. But then his music hit and there was no time. He headed up the stairs, through the curtain, and onto the stage.

To his surprise the trail followed him out and led down the ramp.

Dean slowly went after the trail. Without breaking character, he looked at the faces in the crowd. The scent was strong, but it wasn't coming from the fans.

' _ **Trail's heading towards the damn ring,'**_  his wolf said, deciding to show up for the first time in in nearly a week.

' _I know.'_

Dean's mind raced as he stared straight ahead. The wolf began to froth at the mouth but he kept himself in check. He couldn't count his chickens until they hatched.

The scent led his nose to the ring and up the steps and –

Fuck. It went through the ropes.

' _Maybe it's Charles Robinson,'_  Dean thought, taking a glance at the referee.

' _ **Yeah, right…'**_  the wolf chortled sarcastically.

' _Shit.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of the chapter takes place on the August 30th, 2016 edition of SmackDown Live.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stapled shut, inside an outside world and I'm  
> Sealed in tight, bizarre but right at home  
> Claustrophobic, closing in and I'm  
> Catastrophic, not again"  
> -Slipknot "Before I Forget"

So the  **Lone Wolf**  moniker wasn't just for show? So much for werewolves being low-key. Were The Sentinels up Corbin's ass too?

Dean felt Corbin's eyes burning a hole into his back, but for the time being he pretended Corbin was just a regular Joe. He leaned over the ropes for the crowd to cheer and take their pictures. Then he went over to heckle Styles.

He was pretty sure Corbin had woken up and smelled the coffee by now. In fact he probably already knew, just like every other werewolf was supposed to know about him.

Was Corbin pissed at him too? He was about to find out.

As they faced off he noticed the barely contained intensity with which Corbin was eyeing him. The big man looked like he wanted to turn him inside out and play xylophone on his ribcage.

Was that meanmugging just Corbin's reaction to any other werewolf or  _did_  he hate him personally?

Dean didn't pause to question what that look meant, just lunged and locked up with Corbin. The power that pushed back on him was enormous, yet effortless. Clearly Corbin could tear him limb from limb without breaking a sweat.

Instead of displaying that power, Corbin allowed for him to slip behind, to put him in a side headlock. So he was hiding his power to keep the wool over the audience's eyes? That made Dean relax some as Corbin pushed him off into the ropes, realizing the other werewolf intended to Joe-Shmo wrestle this match.

Then Corbin slammed him with a shoulder block that felt more like colliding with a baby elephant than another man.

' _Shit that hurt.'_

The wolf was seething.  _ **'Fuck him up for that!'**_

Dean suddenly felt the impulse to see what Corbin's face looked like without any skin. The wolf wanted out badly, but Dean quickly leashed it.

' _Shut up and let me handle it!'_

He was pulled back up to his feet by his hair then Corbin gut checked him with a knee, casually smashing his insides. He got a moment to suck in some air before the big man was on him again.

This time Corbin threw him for a loop and pulled some of his punches. This led to Dean thinking that the worst was over, that he was just insinuating himself as the top wolf before continuing the match as usual.

That theory got shot down when he received another blast to the midsection that left him well and truly breathless. Corbin stood over him then, a skyscraper with chipped ice for eyes.

Dean realized then he was in it for the long haul.

He absorbed a few more strikes before deciding he'd had enough of playing nice. He bounced off the ropes again then he let the wolf off its leash a little bit, taking Corbin down with a flying crossbody. The throttled gasp he heard from Corbin told him that he used just the right amount of force.

After raining his fists down like bullets from a machine gun, he sent Corbin over the top rope, then launched himself at him. Corbin attempted to counter the attack, but the momentum was on Dean's side. He crashed into the big man and knocked him down again.

Now that he was in control, Dean started to remember his on-screen rival.

' _Gotta make an impression on AJ.'_

Muscling Corbin over to the commentator's table was harder than it surely looked, but Dean managed it. Slamming Corbin's head down on the table with enough power to make him see double – though not enough to break the table – got both Styles' attention and as well as let Corbin know he was not one to be trifled with.

He only spared Styles a glance then stalked back to his real target. And to think Styles had awakened his beastly side a few days ago. Now that he had competition at his Inhuman level, he couldn't care less about the smaller man.

' _Nothing personal, AJ.'_

Still, he was getting paid for a feud with Styles, not Corbin. He had to keep the fans interested in the match. So he shoved Corbin back into the ring and took some time to look back at Styles.

That gave just enough time for Corbin to grab him by his hair from behind. He was probably thinking that Dean was content to allow him to take the reins back.

' _I don't think so.'_

With Corbin hanging on to him, all he had to do was drop his body down from the ring apron for the big man's arm and neck to snap off the top rope. He let go of Dean.

Dean slid back into the ring in time to intercept the other werewolf's charge. He then climbed to the top rope to deliver a drop kick with such speed that Seth would have been proud.

Corbin let out another surprised grunt and fell backwards onto the canvas.

Dean sank into a crouch, measuring his opponent.

' _You probably thought I was just some other flea-bitten mongrel, didn't ya?'_

He charged at Corbin, looking to go for his signature bulldog, but Corbin ended up shoving him towards the turnbuckles. Dean was able to slow his momentum enough that the blow didn't cave his chest in. However he was unable to avoid the haymaker that connected with the back of his skull.

Dean found himself face down seeing stars one moment, then he was rolled onto his back, Corbin's large hand edging towards his throat.

For a split second Dean considered with his addled brain that Corbin might have snapped and was going to choke him to death or break his neck.

The hand slid away at the last second, Corbin's other hand moving to cradle his head. But it wasn't a comforting gesture. It only brought Dean's head closer to the elbows Corbin was smashing into his face.

Once Corbin got off of him, Dean thought about sitting up and saying "Thank you ma'am, may I have another?" but the ceiling and the lights of the arena were spinning above him. He was afraid he might barf on the big man's boots instead. So he just lay back on the mat and waited for his rattled brain to settle.

Corbin didn't wait on him though. He obviously smelled blood. He stopped those boots down on Dean's chest.

Charles Robinson finally got onto Corbin for once and Dean had the wherewithal to roll out of the way. He didn't get far though before a boot came down hard over his throat, causing him to reevaluate Corbin's desire to crush his larynx. His hands flailed, scrabbling to relieve the pressure. It was only removed when the ref warned his opponent off again.

Everyone else probably couldn't tell how bad Corbin was really grinding him into the ground. During the course of the match, Dean had discovered that it didn't take much effort for a werewolf to go from human strength to superhuman. After he was bitten it had been a fine line between a regular strike and knocking his human opponents' heads off. He must've been instinctually holding back all that time. After all he hadn't known he still had supernatural strength until the night The Sentinels came calling.

Now that he didn't have to dial back his power and considering the power he had fought One-Eye with, Dean realized that it took maybe five percent of his total power to knock around another werewolf in human form.

What could he do if he used his full power?

He didn't know, but he did know he was glad that Corbin hadn't used it on him yet.

The big man finally granted him a breather from the ground-and-pound technique, choosing instead to focus on wrenching his neck and arm with a half-nelson chin lock. Dean powered out of the hold, quickly jabbing Corbin in the breadbasket.

Corbin delivered a jab of his own, but it didn't hurt him so much as push him backwards against the ropes. Just a little too soft.

Maybe Corbin was getting used to adjusting his power when wrestling a werewolf in lieu of a human as much as he was.

Dean launched himself to hit a slingshot clothesline.

The hand that met his chest was as hard as a cast iron skillet.

For the first time in the match Corbin tried for the pin. When he didn't get the three count he erupted at the ref, skirting the line between playing up being the heel and being legitimately pissed.

Dean could smell the rage rolling off the big man.

"That's your champ?" Corbin shot at the crowd, but Dean knew it was mostly aimed at him. He was at the top of the ranks, but obviously Corbin didn't think he deserved it.

Corbin took him right back to the clinic, working over his neck and arm again. Dean knew he should keep moving, to keep up the flow of the match as well as continuing to nail the point home to the other wolf that he couldn't have his spot.

' _ **Stop screwing around and get him!'**_  the wolf howled.

' _I said I'd handle this!'_

He fought out of the hold, Irish whipping Corbin into the corner. Corbin countered into that slick move of his. He slid out of the ring beneath the bottom rope before rounding the ring post and sliding back inside. The big man was looking to ambush him while he was still confused.

Only he didn't count on the fact that Dean had scouted footage of his matches. He ducked Corbin's clothesline and turned it into a high torque swinging neck breaker.

Corbin roared in pain then told a concerned Charles Robinson to "Shut up!"

Between Corbin's shouts and the sight of him nursing his neck, Dean and his wolf were over the moon.

He couldn't enjoy it too much though. Corbin had done a regular number on him, so he flopped back down and took another short siesta on the mat.

Not since he became a werewolf had he wrestled a more punishing match. And there weren't any weapons or anything special like that.

Judging on the likely fact that Corbin was the only other werewolf in the company, and by how he was grimacing while holding his neck, the big man hadn't been truly hurt by an opponent for awhile either.

Corbin still looked pissed, but under all that fury Dean could see some begrudging respect in those ice-blue eyes.

Good.

They both dragged themselves to their feet at the same time and as Corbin came at him, he introduced him to a series of strikes and kicks. Corbin derailed his flurry with another hard knee to the stomach. He then attempted to body slam him, but Dean jumped out of his arms and went for Dirty Deeds.

Unable to get his finisher locked in, Corbin was able to freight train him into a corner. The big man took a step back, then charged again. At the last possible second, Dean sidestepped him.

The impact of Corbin's shoulder connecting with the ring post echoed harshly in Dean's ears.

He ignored it though. Grabbing Corbin by his belt, he rolled the other werewolf up for the count. The ref's hand hit the mat only twice before Corbin kicked out.

Dean looked Corbin over. He was just beginning to think that the other had lost most of his steam, but he was quickly ran over by a big clothesline the moment he stumbled to his feet. Another roar was heard then a hand clamped down around the back of his abused neck, pulling him back up.

"How'd you get mixed up with them and live, huh?" Corbin muttered lowly more or less to himself.

Dean only got enough time to wonder just what the hell his opponent was talking about – he might've still been a little loopy – before his head was forced back into the match. He punched Corbin in the mush.

Corbin punched back hard, but Dean rebounded back from the middle rope. This time the slingshot clothesline connected and with enough force that they both went down.

Scrambling, Dean hooked Corbin's leg, but the other man kicked out.

A second wind came over Dean then. Racing back to the top turnbuckle, he absorbed the blows that Corbin threw his way, but blocked the attempted superplex. After a headbutt and some forearm strikes, Corbin only got one hit in but still ended on his back. Meanwhile Dean landed on his feet on the ring apron.

' _ **He's tiring.'**_

Just as the wolf got done saying that, Corbin charged at him like a runaway locomotive again. Dean barely saw it coming, but simply kept hold of the top rope and dropped down. The big man sailed over it and onto the floor.

' _So much for being tired.'_

It was soon becoming time for him to wrap things up and prove that he was the head honcho here. Or whatever it was that Ulfric had called himself.

Dean ran and dove between the ropes, knocking Corbin to the floor. Using the pause in action as excuse for another breather, Dean sprawled himself over the barricade.

He loved doing suicide dives. The only thing he loved more was doing them in stereo with Seth.

' _Fuck.'_

He already missed Seth so damn bad and it wasn't even a week yet. He was pathetic.

' _Welp,'_  he thought as he got back to his feet,  _'can't lament now. Got a job to do.'_

While shoving Corbin back into the ring, Dean thought that the match was heading towards an end. Apparently so did Robinson. But Corbin refused to go down just yet. He popped right back up and slammed him into oblivion with a powerful Deep Six.

Dean barely registered the jackknife cover he's caught in, but managed to kick out just in time. He then took a moment to roll out of the ring.

' _Jesus, why won't he stay down?'_

' _ **Try**_ hitting _ **him harder and see what happens, like a science experiment. Should be exciting~'**_

' _No biology lessons in front of the kids.'_

' _ **How lame…'**_

Corbin was on him immediately, sending him spine first into the barricade.

"Hey!" Styles shouted in that Georgian accent of his as he strolled over.

Either he was feeling a bit neglected or the suits in the back thought that the match had gone on long enough. As much as he was tired, beat up, and knew the match should be ending soon, Dean wanted to keep going against the other werewolf. He wanted push himself further until there was a clear victor. The winner being him of course.

But seeing as they were on a tight schedule of airtime it seemed that this match was heading towards concluding with a DQ victory. Dean didn't like it and neither did the wolf.

Corbin seemed to be just as thrilled about it. He exploded at Styles, yelling "What!?" in his face.

"Stay on hi—'

"Don't you tell me what to do!"

"You better get outta my face—'

"Nobody tells me what to do."

Things were quickly looking like déjà vu from last week, only now it was between Styles and Corbin. Maybe Styles had a penchant for getting under a werewolf's skin.

Dean wasn't sure how well Corbin could keep his wolf in check, so he decided to play it safe and rescue Styles. He launched himself into the big man's back, planning to get his attention off Styles. But he overshot on the power behind his attack, causing Corbin to barrel into Styles and knock him down.

Oh well, it fed into his storyline with the smaller man and got a nice pop from the crowd.

He sent Corbin into the ring once again, leveling him with a flying elbow. Corbin continued to show his defiance in kicking out.

Styles interjected himself back in the match, jumping onto the ring apron. Dean allowed for him to dodge his clothesline, not willing to risk hitting the other man until he'd gotten his power back under control. Corbin used that distraction to roll him up.

' _Nope.'_

After kicking out Dean made another attempt to finish Corbin, but he maneuvered himself behind him, and as Styles once again got on the apron, shoved him toward Styles.

Styles turned out to be quicker than Corbin's train of thought though, and went for an enzigiri at Dean's head. Dean's reflexes proved to be the fastest of the three of them and it was instead Corbin who ate the boot.

The bell rung in DQ, just like he had banked on. Then again he had walked the match right into that direction by ducking the kick. But just because he foresaw the result of the match and led it towards that conclusion didn't mean he had to like it.

' _I still got time? Then let's stir up the crowd again.'_

First he took down Styles, made it look real good too, but he saved his real frustration for Corbin. He let the wolf off its leash another five percent more and planted the big man's head on the mat with Dirty Deeds.

What he hadn't meant to do exactly was to fail to dial his strength back down to Joe Shmo level when he went to knock Styles off the top rope. Racking his balls on the top rope, Styles let out a howl that echoed pitifully around the arena.

Oh well, at least it added to the feud, and Styles' wails were kind of music to his ears at the moment.

Still he was somewhat remorseful. That shit hurt.

"You really should stick to wrestling," he said so the other man could hear him, consciously leaving out the part he so desperately wanted to say about not getting in the middle of two werewolves.

In the end, abusing Styles' balls by making him ride the top rope some more relieved most of Dean's remaining vexations.

Hopefully he'd be forgiven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know most WWE matches are rehearsed or at least spots are called during the match, or just that what happens behind the scenes is much different than this, but I went with this for the purpose of my fic. Also thought what Dean actually said to AJ was fitting for my needs, "stick to wrestling and don't try and fight werewolves" :p


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Chances thrown  
> Nothing's free  
> Longing for what used to be  
> Still it's hard  
> Hard to see  
> Fragile lives, shattered dreams"  
> -The Offspring "The Kids Aren't Alright"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly just wanted to say thanks for all the kudos and comments on the last chapter~
> 
> Secondly, I wanted to share that last Saturday I got the opportunity to attend a WWE Live event and a VIP Experience. We only got to meet three superstars, but I was so ecstatic that Dean was one of them (I also met Alexa Bliss and Finn Balor and I was very happy with that as well). Even though I was happy to meet Dean, I was also a bit scared. I tripped over my bag on my way over to him and I was shaking a little bit. But when I showed him my latest fanart of him and Seth as tag champs that I had brought with me for him to sign he seemed to genuinely impressed with it and his down-to-earth personality really helped me calm down enough to keep my cool enough to manage a smile in the second picture. When Alexa came in I was more calm and when Finn came in...he was just so nice and smiling so infectiously that I couldn't help but smile bigger. Probably one of the happiest moments of my life behind my trip to Sweden. You can find the photos of that on my tumblr, look up stubzs87 and search the tag "my photos" in my navigation.
> 
> Thirdly...I have so more unhappier things to share. My life at home with one of my family members that I live with has taken a turn for the worse and reached a breaking point. I'm probably going to have to move out and find an apartment to live on my own or with my father (hopefully it can be the latter since we both would benefit better that way helping each other out with expenses) as soon as possible. So for now this might be the last update for this story for awhile.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the chapter and thank you to those that have stuck with this story and this series.

Immediately after the match Dean headed straight to the back with purposeful strides. He ignored everyone in his path as best as he could. Some were harder to avoid than others and he was forced to listen with half attention. His main prerogative was cornering Corbin before he left the arena. If he got away, Dean wouldn't be able to see him again for a few days at least, and he wanted answers now.

' _How'd that big bastard hide that he was a fucking werewolf ?'_  He should have been able to sniff him out ages ago

The wolf inside him was oddly silent again.

Corbin's scent led backstage, but the deeper Dean traversed the more the trail began to get confusing. The scent went down one corridor before backtracking and leading down a different one. Dean followed it down one more corridor before he realized what was going on. His quarry was avoiding detection by taking him on a wild goose chase hoping he'd spend all his time tracking the scent, during which Corbin made his escape. Simple but clever.

A snarl rose from Dean's chest and he took his mounting frustrations out on a rack of folding chairs. The deafening crash as pounds of metal clattered onto the floor helped in refocusing his mind.

A crooked grin eased itself onto his face as a solution came to him.

"Fuck it."

He'd beat him to the punch.

Abandoning his search, Dean raced towards the parking garage so he could cut Corbin off before he could even get to his rental. If he already hadn't that is.

' _Don't be gone yet,'_  he chanted wordlessly.

A minute or two later he dashed through the one of the two heavy doors marked as entrances to the below ground garage from the arena. Dean didn't pick up Corbin's scent this way at all, but the wash of relief that covered him melted away fast when he became conscious of the fact that Corbin could pick up his scent and go a different route to his vehicle. Dean didn't bother taking up sentry at either door, but maneuvered himself to stand where he could see both of them, plus the car ramp. He wasn't above imagining the other wolf stalking in from outside.

It took no time at all for the door opposite of the one he used to open a hair, allowing for Corbin's beanie-clad head to poke between the gap, looking for clear passage to his rental.

"Hey, you big wet blanket, over here!" Dean called before the other man could even spot him. Corbin grimaced and muttered a coarse swear that his ears had no trouble picking up from the several yards with which he stood. Dean's threw him a smug look. "Why don't we have ourselves a little pow wow?"

With only his head and one massive shoulder visible through the gap, Corbin silently scowled at him. Behind his anger the gears could be seen spinning behind those leering eyes. Would he go back the way he came and seek a different means of escape or would he make a break for it passed Dean to get to his car? Or would they raise their dukes and have it out?

"Hey! Quit blockin' the way!" came R-Truth's voice from somewhere behind the big man. Beyond that Sheamus, Chris Jericho, and Kevin Owens rumbled impatient agreements with Truth's complaint. Dean snickered.

Corbin's glare magnified to the blistering fire of the sun and had Dean been an ant he would have been incinerated on the spot. But an ant he surely wasn't. In the end he opened the door fully, crossed the threshold, and mutely made his way over to Dean; the black look not leaving his face for an instant. When nothing but ten feet of air separated them Corbin came to a stop, luggage resting beside him.

"What do you want, Ambrose?" he asked scornfully.

Dean couldn't help feeding off the other werewolf's animosity towards him. He quickly decided to amuse himself further at the other's expense, a tactic he'd mastered on bullies in grade school.

"You need to work more on your charisma, ya know? Let yourself go, man."

"I don't have time for this," Corbin growled, sound resonating low and gravely in his chest, "Get to the point or I'm leaving."

"See? That sounded so much more like you meant it!" Dean raised his arms in faux-enthusiasm. The next growl that came from Corbin sounded decidedly more wolf-like, so he showed the other man his palms peacefully. "Alright, alright, relax Rin Tin Tin…look you're a werewolf, I'm a werewolf, so let's—"

"Keep it down!" Corbin hissed viciously, eyes flitting to their co-workers as more of them milled in and headed their respective ways.

"Then c'mon a little closer."

Though his deep frown was still in place, he hesitated a noticeable beat before cautiously edging another five feet in Dean's direction.

"Closer…"

It appeared to take all of Corbin's self restraint to stay his Golden Gloves Champion right hook from his jaw. The big man bristled, but acquiesced until there was only a foot between them and Dean had to tilt his head back a little to maintain eye contact.

After a brief stare off, Dean decided to cut to the chase. "When we're you bitten?"

"Wasn't," his answer came clipped through tight lips.

"You're—" Dean paused to dredge up the proper terminology from his memory, "Wolfborn?"

Corbin inclined his head once. "What's it to you?"

This time Dean's face darkened. " 'Cause you've been on the main roster for a few months and it's only now that I've noticed what you are. Tell me, how did you hide from my nose?"

When all he got for an answer was an infuriating eye roll that said  _"Isn't it obvious?"_  he got in Corbin's face as best he could as his own ire rose unexpectedly, hovering over him like a building thunderhead.

Instead of giving ground or punching him in the mouth, Corbin started chuckling. "Look at you," he shook his head, smiling, "demanding answers from me like you're an alpha when in reality you're just a yipping pup who doesn't even know how to hide his own scent. Still chasing his own tail. The way you carry yourself, any wolf could smell you coming a mile away. All I had to do was stick to the boiler rooms long enough that the fumes disguised my scent trail."

"Yeah? Didn't do you any good tonight," Dean pointed out saltily.

Being treated like a child by other werewolves still rubbed him the wrong way. He wasn't stupid, just ignorant of their ways. And the fact that he still was learning things so slowly wasn't entirely his fault. Seemed like every werewolf he met expected him to know the ins-and-outs automatically and getting answers from them was worse than going to the dentist.

"It worked all that time though I practically burned out my own nose, I call that a job well done on my part, "Corbin argued obstinately, "the only reason it failed tonight was because we got booked in a match together."

"You should have planned for that, son. Besides…I think your game was getting soft. I could pick out your stench amongst the fumes all the way at Gorilla _." There let that one sink in._

Corbin's eye twitched, but he didn't rise to the bait. "How about you answer me this, what's a Mutt doing alive after coming in contact with The Sentinels? And before you ask another dumb question, I caught your scent with theirs outside the hotel last week. I'm sure you remember which one."

Letting the other's words roll around in his head, Dean analyzed the tone used. Unlike Ulfric and many of his cronies he had met that night, Corbin didn't spit "Mutt" like it was some sort of racist slur. He simply referred to Dean as the type of werewolf he was. That didn't mean he suddenly began liking him or something, but it meant that he didn't eye him like shit on his boot like those other werewolf Nazi bastards. They didn't have to like each other, but maybe…maybe Corbin was someone he could at least learn to trust…just a little bit.

"Well," Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his head, "after saying I was a wanted man and that I should be scheduled for execution, Ulfric said I had a choice. But really I didn't. My options were either work for his pack or they'd take turns grinding me into dog food. I mean how is that really a choice, right? Anyway, they sort of hired me to be their…enforcer or something."

Corbin stiffened and he looked suddenly ready to bolt. His voice sounded unnerved, maybe even tinged with uneasiness when he said, "I've really got to go."

"Hey, wait a minute—" Dean reached out but Corbin brushed him off.

The big man turned to grab his luggage and froze, one hand on the handle of his suitcase. Dean was about to ask what had gotten into him when the scent of another werewolf wafted into his nostrils.

"Hey, B."

"Gemma," Corbin returned.

Dean poked his head around Corbin's broad shoulders, spotting a recognizable blue shock of hair.

Surely the moody teenage wolf could only be there for one reason. Tension straightened his spine; thoughts of what he may be forced to do swirling like a maelstrom about his head. The fact that Gemma addressed Corbin first gave him pause. Maybe she wasn't here to give him marching orders just yet.

Relaxing minutely, he shifted his stance and shuffled his feet until the three of them were positioned like they were having a Mexican standoff; only no one was facing him. He didn't feel too insulted. He eyed both of them carefully hoping to work out how they knew each other and whether they were friends or enemies.

Corbin seemed to scent the air, his eyes quickly surveying their surroundings before coming back to rest on Gemma once he discerned no one else of consequence was nearby. His face remained stoic, though his gaze had softened minutely. But if anything his posture had become even more rigid than when Dean first approached him in the garage.

' _So he finds the girl more of a threat than me_ ,' Dean mused, insult to his pride once again nowhere in sight.

It didn't bother him so much that a guy could find a woman threatening, because they could be just as dangerous, if not more. No, Dean didn't care about Corbin's anxiety so much as the reasoning behind it. Because if Corbin was worried, maybe he should be as well.

So just what about Gemma made him so nervous?

For her part Gemma was cool. Not cool as in "cool as a cucumber" (though she could definitely pull that off too), more cool like an iceberg. Her eyes were impassive glaciers of blue. Adding to her cold stare was the way with which she stood, her stance wide and her arms crossed firmly over her chest.

Dean narrowed his eyes and studied them closer, the hidden things in this picture coming more and more into view.

Corbin seemed endeared to this woman-child, yet at the same time a little emasculated by her sudden appearance. She held all the cards. Gemma by comparison was at first glance aloof, but Dean had observed enough body language in his lifetime to see that her uncaring expression was nothing but a mask to hide her own emotions from view. Her folded arms just another erected barrier to keep Corbin from getting too close.

Whoever they were to each other, they had a history; and between them sat an unresolved conflict.

Dean was usually never one to go prying into other people's business, but this bizarre face off had his interest piqued. If there were popcorn handy, he'd sit and watch it unfold. But as badly as he wanted to start firing off questions or observe every juicy detail for his own little gossip column, he realized they only had their eyes trained on each other. It was time to make his getaway.

Still he couldn't help but keep half of his attention on the pair while he began carefully slipping away from the scene.

"You look good," Gemma started, lips thin and mouth straight, her tone was impenetrable as her icy exterior.

Corbin's shoulders deflated a little, his voice seemed to follow suit, words barely a whisper, "You do too, Gem."

"Don't call me that."

The first hint of emotion poked through Gemma's surface, a flash of fire behind the mirror of her eyes signaling a hidden resentment.

Dean paused in his escape, breath held as he waited to soak in Corbin's response.

He looked to the ground for a moment, his big body all but sagging on the frame of his bones. He looked weary and smaller than a man his size should. Dean almost felt sympathy for him. Almost.

Then Corbin's resolve appeared to return as he regained his full height, eyes hardening into blue steel. The hand on his suitcase whitened around the knuckles.

"Take care of yourself, Gemma," he said, almost an air of finality clinging to it.

Gemma's façade continued to crack under the pressure, her arms lowering stiffly to her sides, hands balling into fists.

"That's it? That's all you've got to say to me after all this time?"

"Apparently so," Baron called without looking back or stopping. He stopped at his car to load it up.

"You…freaking coward!" Gemma's shout outmatched the squeal of Corbin's tires as he peeled out of the garage.

' _Shit, outstayed my welcome. Time to go.'_

As much as he wanted to hang around and figure out this titillating puzzle, Dean really  _didn't_  feel like sticking around a pissed off teenaged girl. They could turn into little banshees and Gemma looked like she could be a hellcat under circumstances such as these. Dean wanted to keep his eyes from getting clawed out, thank you very much.

He ducked and scurried around to one of the doors that would return him to the arena so he could collect his things. As he stood now all he had with him was the WWE World Title belt snapped securely around his waist.

"And where do you think you're going?" Gemma growled, her voice right behind him.

' _Oh fuck…_ ' "Just to get my things," he replied innocently.

"Got it all right here."

Dean whirled on his heel upon hearing the familiar southern drawl.

"Bray?"

The bearded man stood next to Gemma. One hand on the handle of Dean's fully packed suitcase, mouth turned up in a mischievous grin.

"C'mon Dean, you'll be riding with us tonight."

Dean blinked owlishly at Bray then slid his gaze to Gemma.

"Oh come now," Bray tutted, "You know I already know what you are. No need to get so paranoid."

"You're human," was all Dean could think to say for that was all he could sense from the other man ever since the night they ran into each other in a hotel hallway and conversed about rougarou.

Nope. He'd had enough surprises in one night; his brain was allowed to check out early.

Bray's eyes twinkled with amusement. He let out a short chortle then said, "Am I?"

Grabbing his luggage from the enigmatic man, Dean mumbled, "I needa shower…"

"It'll have to wait," Gemma spoke up, placing a stern hand on his elbow and he could feel the strength in her fingers.

Dean was afraid she would say that. He thought about resisting, but he  _really_  didn't feel like fighting a girl. All of his energy had gone to maintaining his sanity anyway. She'd clearly have the upper hand.

" 'Fraid she's right," Bray added, "First night on the job, Cowboy. Now let's get going. We've got a little appointment to Athens to make."

"But what about the plane I've gotta catch?" he tried again though he was already halfway across the parking garage courtesy of Gemma's iron grip dragging him along to Bray's rental.

"Don't worry about that, okay? Everything's all taken care of."

"Of course it is," Dean mouthed back sourly.

Gemma urged him into the passenger seat of the SUV while Bray loaded his things into the back. After removing the title belt from his waist, Dean carelessly tossed it behind his seat. If it smacked the kid in the backseat, that was fine with him.

All Dean wanted was a little peace and quiet after wrestling, but it seemed like it was everyone and their brother's job to disrupt his life.

Moments later, Bray situated himself in the driver's seat. Dean watched him disdainfully as he slid the key into the ignition and the vehicle purred to life. Even as fed up as he was, he couldn't keep his trap shut long enough for them to make it out down the street from the American Airlines Center where they performed. No, he blurted out the first thing that came to his addled brain.

"Seriously, what are you doing here?" he directed at Bray, "And don't give me that crap about being an Inhuman or whatever you are. I know you're definitely not a werewolf. So what are you doing in  _our_  business."

"You're kind of my business, Dean."

"Oh really? And what business is that so I can get the hell out of it?"

He heard Gemma flinch in the backseat, waiting with baited breath for something horrible to happen. He could smell her fear, but he didn't care. Well mostly.

"Well?" Dean growled at Bray.

"Watch how you speak to him," Gemma whispered so lowly he actually had to strain his hearing to catch it.

"Why?" his voice roughened further with evident irritation.

He was tired of playing these guessing games when it came to Inhumans. He was one of them, just come out with it for fuck's sake.

She leaned closer to his seat, cupping her hand around his ear and her mouth for added privacy. "He's a Necromancer. Arguable one of the most powerful of the Inhumans."

Indifferent to the volume of his voice, Dean asked loudly, "A necro-what?"

Gemma flinched again and shrunk back in her seat. He smiled teasingly at her.

Served her right for hauling him around like a bouncer at a nightclub.

"A Necromancer," Bray corrected. He glanced at Gemma through the rearview mirror. "Be still child, I take no offense to Dean's crass behavior," he then looked sidelong at Dean, "and even though it was I who at The Council summit vouched for him to help The Sentinels with their little problem instead of meeting the chopping block, I know this man would never bend his knee to me or treat me as anything more than a co-worker. In fact I wouldn't want him to."

As Bray's near Shakespearean monologue settled properly in his head where he could dissect it, the meaning gradually revealed itself. Dean's head turned so fast he was sure people a state away could hear the vertebrae in his neck creaking from the sudden movement.

"Wait…you…that was—"

Bray nodded, cheeky smile still in place. "Can't take all the credit though. Hiring you out to The Sentinels was Regal's plan. I just did the vouching, my word holding more weight being that I hold the highest seat on The Council and all."

Dean could barely digest everything that was being said. All he could muster was, "R-Regal is—"

Another nod. "He's a vampire, a strigoi to be more precise. He manages all the Inhumans in the WWE and developmental, makes sure everything runs smoothly for us in the company. Most importantly he makes sure our secret remains intact from our human co-workers."

"But…he…I saw him…go outside in broad daylight…"

"For most vampires, that is just a myth. However, though sunlight doesn't cause him to immediately burst into flames, prolonged exposure to it can make a strigoi ill."

Dean sat speechlessly staring at the other man for a long time, his brain doing somersaults around all the information he'd been given.

Even so, he knew this would be just the tip of the iceberg. Part of him wanted to pry further, to know everything there is to know about this screwed up new hidden world he had suddenly been thrust into. But another, bigger part felt overwhelmed by it all. He barely knew where to start.

No wonder the government covered up all sorts of shit.

He was torn between deciding on whether to mail Regal a postcard telling him thank you or calling him out as devious bastard for not telling him everything sooner when Gemma interrupted the silence that had fallen over them.

"I think he's broken."

In response to that and Bray's laughter, he grumpily kicked his seat back and propped his feet up on the dash.

"I fucking hate you all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some questions answered, but more questions have replaced them. Hope you guys like how things are developing and thanks for reading~


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...This distance, this dissolution  
> I cling to memories, while falling...
> 
> ...You know me, you know me all too well  
> My only desire, to bridge our division...
> 
> ...Am I breathing?  
> My strength fails me  
> Your picture, a bitter memory..."  
> -Killswitch Engaged "End of Heartache"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the personal things I was dealing with before are lessoned. I'm still in the same place though I had hoped to get out of the place I am now, but things are better at least. And I found some time to write more in between work and sleep, but since I work retail, I'm not sure if I'll still be able to get more than one more update up after this one for a few months at least. I did manage to do a bit of a watercolor of Dean in his werewolf form, you can check that out [here](http://stubzs87.tumblr.com/post/166787701337/my-one-and-only-inktober-contribution-for-this) Thank you to everyone who has left feedback and kudos. Those that have left kudos, feel free to leave me comments. Those really make my day~ Anyways, I hope you all enjoy the update, happy Halloween, and be safe!

Taking Highway 175, it would take roughly an hour to drive from Dallas to Athens. Provided that the traffic was fair. There was thankfully only mild to moderate highway congestion.

Dean had hoped to try and sleep during that time 'cause God knew he needed it for what might be in store for him. His seat was kicked all the way back and he was stretched out as far as the dash would allow his long limbs.

For their part Bray and Gemma spoke little and in hushed tones as though sensing his mood and desire for rest. Somehow they maintained such a low volume that even his acute werewolf hearing picked out only disconnected bits and pieces. He gave up trying to focus on what they were saying and just let the lull of their voices along the gentle motion of the SUV sooth him while he examined the inside of his eyelids.

His body was willing and able to accept some shuteye, but his ever chaotic mind had other plans.

Though Bray had earlier cleared up some unknowns there were still many things left out in the dark realm of mystery. Pile on top of that a stomach knotted with nerves and a hankering for a smoke, a stiff drink, or both, made it evident that he'd be unable to catch that catnap. Dean let out a disgruntled sigh at his current misfortune.

"Hey kid," he called without bothering to turn his head to face the other wolf, "Be a doll and reach into the inner pocket of my leather jacket for my pack of Pall Malls."

He heard not a rustle from Gemma.

This time he turned his head. "Well?"

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to say please?" she sneered.

Dean faced forward again. "Nope."

"Well I was looking for at least  _some_  common courtesy," she sniffed and he imagined her looking closely at her fingernails in that common teenage I-don't-care-about-your-seniority fashion.

"Keep lookin', kid," he replied bluntly.

Really? A werewolf looking for politeness? Dean just couldn't picture it. It was so absurd that he wondered if Gemma was dropped on her head as a "pup". Maybe she was of a low rank – what were they called? Omegas? – and was used to saying it. Perhaps since she was away from her pack she hoped to impose a lower rank on him.

' _Sorry to disappoint you, kid.'_

Politeness and rolling over and showing his belly never helped him as a poor kid from the streets of Cincinnati and he wasn't about to start now.

Still, it wasn't getting him his cigarette so he decided to change tactics.

"So what's the beef between you and Lurch back there?"

There was a long hesitation, then she said acerbically, "All you need to know is that he's a jackass."

"Tell me something I don't already know," he complained goadingly.

In reply Gemma slapped his pack of smokes against his chest heavy-handedly.

Dean hissed between his teeth at the sudden abuse. Clutching his poor flattened pack in his hands like a prized possession, he gingerly fished out the most unscathed cigarette along with the zippo stuffed with them.

"Geez, you're a touchy little shit…" he mumbled around the thin cylinder between his lips, "but  _thanks_ ," he waved the pack in the air to mark his emphasis then lit up.

Sounded like Gemma had some trouble in her paradise where Corbin was concerned. She seemed kind of too young for him though, and if they had a history, she'd have been even younger.

' _Probably some one-sided childish crush and he burned her somehow,'_  he mused.

"Crack the window," said Bray.

Dean pouted but did so since he was totally going to anyway.

"And you. You're as bad as Roman."

Bray said nothing more, just shook his head a little with a smile playing on his lips.

"Who names their kid Roman?" Gemma scoffed.

"Who calls their kid Gemma?" Dean countered, turning a glare on her.

"Gemma is a perfectly respectable name," she argued heatedly.

"So is Roman and at least it doesn't sound like some hippy name, so quit with your little snide remarks."

"So he's important to you," she said with triumph.

Shit.

While she had successfully dodged his inquisition, she had tricked him into giving up vital information about someone he cared about and wanted to protect. He couldn't let her know anything more lest The Sentinels learn about it as well. They didn't need anymore leverage on him than they already had.

He'd have to watch himself around her.

Exhaling an angry billow of smoke he rebuked her claim using his best promo voice. "Don't pretend to know everything about me, doll. My relationship with Roman? Strictly business. Just getting sick of your little attitude is all. Walking around like everyone should bend over and kiss your ass."

The lie left his mouth so effortlessly that it felt like a betrayal, to Roman and to Seth. Even Bray gave him a subtle questioning side eye, which he returned with a look he hoped the other man understood.

' _Play along, man.'_

"Someone's a ball of nerves. Must be first mission jitters."

Dean's eye ticked at her backtalk but he held himself from ripping her blue head off her shoulders. Instead he took another drag and blew it right in her face, cracking a smile as she sputtered and choked.

"Alright children, play nice or I'll have to pull over," Bray chided benevolently despite his threat. The other man held his gaze a moment longer than he had Gemma's before silently looking to the road once again.

Dean was about to let out an inward sigh of relief when his phone chimed, notifying him of a text sent to his inbox. Seth's name popped up on the screen causing his blood pressure to spike exponentially.

"And who's that?" Gemma asked innocently, but clearly hoping to make the score 2 to 0 in their little information gathering battle.

Now that his relationship with Seth was at risk of being discovered, Dean understood Gemma's reluctance to discuss Corbin with him. They both were unsure of the amount of trust they could place in each other at present. As long as she didn't pester him about Seth, Roman, or any one else in his little inner circle, he wouldn't bring Corbin up to her again.

But there was still the dilemma of how to answer her without her detecting the lie. If he evaded her answer and told her that none of her business it would just prove to her that the person contacting him was indeed important.

"It's just Carrano, our Talent Telations Exec. He's asking if I want to make a media appearance tomorrow. Considering what I'm about to do, I think I'll have to pass…"

He shifted his seat back to its upright position and opened Seth's text once satisfied that the teen in the back wasn't looking over his shoulder.

# Make it to the airport all right? #

Dean bit his lower lip.

Lying to Gemma was one thing, but lying to his lover? It didn't sit right with him. There weren't many other options though. He suspected, unfortunately that he'd have to get used to lying to Seth if he was to keep him safe.

'Fuck…'

He took one last deep drag that finished off his smoke then flung it out the window so he could reply to the text.

# Yup. Can't wait to be home for a few days. What's up? How's Kevin? #

# I feel ya. It's nice to be home. Kevin and I just finished eating dinner. Was about to head to bed, but I wanted to talk to you first if I could. #

Dean allowed himself a small smile, envisioning the brunet and his little dog. Seth would have been feeding Kevin table scraps straight from his fork. He'd never before met a full-grown man of Seth's physical stature love a tiny lap dog as much as Seth loved Kevin. It was just another facet of him that Dean adored.

Before he could stop himself he pictured Seth's bedtime ritual perfectly in his head. First he would shower, then throw his dark drying hair in a bun, and pull on some briefs or a pair of sweat pants, depending on if he was hot or a little cold.

He wondered if Seth had already climbed into his lush California king sized bed. Dean ached to be able to join him, to hold him close and take in his warmth and his scent.

# I'm right here, babe. What do ya wanna talk about? #

When Seth didn't reply right away Dean placed his phone screen down on his thigh to take in his surroundings and pretend the conversation he was holding was most disinteresting.

Bray was humming to himself as he drove and a look in the rearview mirror told him that Gemma was busy on her own phone, quiet sounds effects coming from the device telling him she was likely playing a game. Good.

Dean set his phone to vibration only just moments before Seth replied.

# It's only been a few days & I already miss your stupid gorgeous face. Wanna skip plans with the family & my academy so I can fly out to see you. #

Gorgeous. Seth had called  _him_  gorgeous.

Dean ducked his head to hide the warmth coloring his cheeks at the compliment.

No one he had ever known had ever called him anything even remotely of the sort. And he'd been called many things.

He knew for sure that he was attractive, the droves of fan girls proved that. But he never really saw himself as someone that was traditionally handsome and he certainly wasn't pretty. So for Seth to say his grizzled mug was gorgeous threw him for a loop.

In his opinion, the definition of the word fit Seth to a T, but he wouldn't deny his lover of his own assessment.

# You're too good for me, ya know that, you fucking beautiful man? I want you to get on that plane. I want to see you. I want to touch you. But what I want isn't often the best option. Go be with your family & take care of your wrestling baby. We'll Face Time asap. #

Dean had to keep control of his hand – much like he had to when he was in public with Seth – or it would begin caressing his phone, treating it as some sort of Seth-surrogate. Damn did he want to run his hands along Seth's face, the expanse of lovely bronze skin available to him. It really was like an addiction, touching him.

# I like you better when you're a bad influence…#

Stifling a laugh, Dean could see the pout clearly in Seth's text.

# But yeah…you're right for once. Fuck…how are we going to do this if I can hardly last a week? #

# Worry not Princess. We'll get our time together. 'Sides, as long as I'm in your heart, I'm right there with you. Distance can't fuck with that. #

# You always know what to say. #

#What can I say? It's one of my infinite talents. #

The SUV slowed down and turned into a Hy-Vee that doubled as a gas station. They parked at a pump and Bray exited without a word. The back hatch of the rental opened momentarily as the Necromancer grabbed something.

Dean decided he should probably let his phone be for now. He shot Seth one last text.

# Getting ready to board. Text you when I land. G'night babe. #

# You better. Night and love you. #

# Love you too. #

He smiled a little and pocketed his phone. When he glanced out the opposite window where he expected to see Bray pumping gas, he found the other man wasn't there. He must have already gone in to pay.

The back hatch opened again and the SUV was flooded with the smell of gasoline, likely from a gas can. Dean didn't need to ask to know what that was for.

When Bray returned to the driver's seat he said, "We're in town. Just need to get to our exact destination." He then switched on the ignition.

"What's the story with this mission?" Dean asked.

"A Feral," Gemma said.

"A Feral?" Dean parroted questioningly.

"That's a person who's been bitten and was unsuccessful in killing their maker in order or found out how to stave off their Change, thus turning into a wolf permanently. They are the most common since…well most humans just can't figure out what they are supposed to do. Anyway, we need to find it and kill it before the sightings and man killings continue."

"So like my maker? Like how I could have ended up had I not killed him?" Dean asked for clarification.

Gemma nodded. "Our pack leaders are the small handful of Wolfborn left in the world that still practice the old ways of werewolf shamanism. They can connect with the Earth's natural energies and that allows them to see and do things the rest of us cannot. They can scry and obtain visions among other things. With these scrying abilities the elders can track disorderly Mutts and Ferals so that we may know where to find them. However their methods aren't perfect. Because of their advanced age, even combining their powers, the elders can only focus their visions on one werewolf at a time. And afterwards, they need time to recover."

Listening to her explanation it began to make more sense to Dean how The Sentinels had located him. It honestly freaked him out that the pack had such surveillance system, imperfect or not.

Dean's voice drawled thoughtfully, watching small, junk-cluttered country houses and sprawling farmland go by. "Sounds risky for Mutts to be hunting humans if it results in calling The Sentinel's attention on them. I mean I get why One-Eye – er Ferals do it. They seem to attack everything."

"Rogue Mutts sometimes just can't help themselves. They try to hide amongst humans in the cities, which leaves little time and places for them to change and go hunting for wild game like they should," Gemma's tone turned ominous, a clear caution directed at him, "If one doesn't Change and hunt game frequently enough, they are in danger of snapping and hunting the first thing that moves," she then shrugged, "and others…well once they do it they become addicted man killers."

"We're here," Bray broke into the conversation, slowing the rental to the side of the road and pulling into a secluded wooded area. Once they were hidden from view he parked and turned it off.

Unbuckling his seatbelt Dean inquired, "Where's here?"

"The spot of the Elders' last vision. We'll sniff the Feral out from here," Gemma answered as she also moved to get out. "C'mon let's go Change."

Change.

Dean's blood chilled in his veins as the thought of shifting into a wolf again, considering how painful the last Change was.

"Fine, whatever," he scowled, throwing open the door, "just don't expect a show this time."

Gemma tsked at him. "You're a werewolf now, you're going to have to learn to not get so shy about nudity."

"It's not the nudity…" he griped, "it's the fact that a girl who's barely out of her training pants is looking at my junk…"

"I wasn't looking at your  _junk_ ," she even had the nerve to air quote him which caused that bastard Bray to smirk, "but if it makes you feel better we won't watch. But we'll need to stand look out while you Change. It's when a werewolf is most vulnerable."

Glaring at the both of him he ground out between clenched teeth, "Good to know…"

Dean trudged a few paces into the woods, thick foliage shielding him as he shed his clothes. He remained standing as he still did not feeling comfortable getting down on the ground like a dog. Closing his eyes he took in a deep, calming breath of fresh night air to prepare his mind and body for the Change. Sharpening his focus he searched for the wolf inside of him, wordlessly beaconing it to take over.

The first hint of the Change came in the form of an unnatural ripple of muscle beneath his skin.

His eyes suddenly turned to balls of fire in his head and a spasm shot up his arms as his carpels and meta carpels enlarged. Freakish, almost canine nails exploded from each digit as he watched the bones of his hands begin to transform into paws under his sheet of human flesh. His feet followed in a similar pattern.

Fresh agony radiated through his skull with the elongation of his face, his mandible on the verge of dislocating to accommodate sharp teeth much to large for his semi-human mouth.

Dean knew the moment for his back to open and release him fully from his human chrysalis was nearing.

Moments turned to minutes, but his Change seemed to have stopped prematurely. Unfortunately the excruciating suffering didn't.

Dean panted harshly, body trembling in his enormous effort to sustain consciousness and ward off his quickly mounting panic.

Though he willed himself to continue to Change with every ounce of his resolve, gritting against near incapacitating agony, his straining body would go no further toward the animal.

He was caught in a state between wolf and human.

Forget The Wolfman. Surely if any unsuspecting person saw what he must look like now would faint on the spot.

He was stuck. He was fucking  _stuck_!

Suddenly Ulfric's words came back to haunt him.

" _A Mutt who can't control when he becomes a wolf is worth less than nothing."_

Unbridled terror shot up Dean's spine as the full implications of his inability to change slammed home in his half human-half animal brain. The equation added up to him being utterly screwed.

His anxiety took over completely and he collapsed face first into a trembling, panting heap of twisted flesh on the forest floor.

He was stuck.

He was going to die.

Vaguely he heard concerned shouts possessing a far-away quality. Then there were hands on him. Seemingly dozens of them. Poking him, prodding him, shaking him, shifting him.

Finally there came a howl that silenced everything.

Then there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to make an index of terminology for my Inhuman series to lesson reader confusion. One of my favorite authors keeps an index of terms and meanings at the end of all her books so I thought it could be useful here. You can find all terms currently used [here.](http://stubzs87.tumblr.com/post/166991344237/inhuman-terminology-index)  
> As I update with more terms, I will update the index. I will post the index again at the end of this fic and each fic that I write as part of my Inhuman series.  
> Also to be clear, Alphas, Omegas, Betas, and all in between in werewolf packs are only used to describe wolf ranks in the pack in my fics.

**Author's Note:**

> One more thing I need to clarify. If you all remember, the promo Dean shoots with the big foam cowboy hat occurs on the August 23rd, 2016 edition SmackDown Live. Yes I know...this isn't the event that Seth and Dean aren't together on, but by the time I realized my mistake I had already written pretty far and so for the sake of this fic, let's just pretend it is ^^'


End file.
